


Coffee, Invasions, and Beanie Meanings

by rikkimae14



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Drugs, F/M, London, New York City, Panic Attacks, Photography, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Take Me Home Tour, Trigger Warnings, Up All Night Tour, YouTube, alludes to rape, but unfortunately necessary, it's brief, it's like falling in love, simon shows up, slowly and then all at once, very brief though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-05-16 21:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 54,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5842042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rikkimae14/pseuds/rikkimae14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started on the first day. The first day were roses. One for every day we didn’t see each other. I preferred lilies. Thursday, the second day, was cupcakes. With too much icing, and not enough sweetness. On Friday, I was nudged into his world by a far too expensive necklace that reminded me too much of the world I was leaving behind. And by Saturday, this boy had me drowning in lavender and vanilla. But I discovered that I would rather drown searching for the sunlight he poured out with Cheshire grins and dimples than be burned flying too close to the sun on my own. Harry Styles was a boy that kicked a candle and set my world afire. </p><p>Or the one where Leighton met Harry exactly a year ago and now she’s thrown into the world of professional photography and encounters One Direction and the boy she’s fallen for in the picture that she hid from the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface

The city of London wasn't like anything in the world. There were so many buildings of brick and stone, cabs in black, and the red phone booths. It was nothing like the city of New York, where there was glass buildings, everyone trying to be more high-tech than the next guy. Don't get me wrong, this city had crowded streets and a little too many people. However, the atmosphere was different. I could feel the charge run through my veins just standing on the corner watching as everything goes by.  
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. I could smell the bakery a few buildings away, a bar across the street. People bustling to get home-so different from the lifestyle in New York, where no one was in a hurry to get home to see their children. The wind blew my brown hair around me, my ivory beanie the only thing protecting it from whipping around my face. I watched as a man stepped out of a building and smiled, seeing two children that looked a lot like him. They ran up the steps and hugged him. He dropped his briefcase and picked them up. A woman with blond hair tucked under a bowler hat smiled from the sidewalk. After a moment, he set them down, grabbed his case, and walked down the steps. I felt like an intruder staring at them as he hugged her and kissed her quickly. Holding hands, they walked, with their kids only a few feet in front of them into a small restaurant.  
I let go of my camera, blinking. The strap caused the camera to rest at my stomach and I smiled, thinking of the insane photos I got. Glancing to my left, I saw a girl balancing on a vacant bench. Her hair was too blowing in the breeze underneath her hat-the British had a thing for hats-and her arms were out to her sides, as if on a tight rope. I lifted my camera once again and snapped a few shots before walking across the street, closer to the river. The sun was setting, giving the right feel and lighting to my pictures as I snapped away.  
Dark quickly settled, but I wasn't done wandering around. A small chill settled in the air, normal for a London night in the beginning of summer. I wrapped my black cardigan around me, and continued walking, my Steve Maddens guiding the way. I couldn't help the smile that stayed on my lips as I walked around, finding so much inspiration.  
I knew there was a reason I had come back to this city.  
I knew I was heading farther away from the city as the bright lights dimmed and there became an abundance of more space and greenery. Shadows this time caught my attention, as houses leaned tauntingly in the dark, and trees provided the right shapes onto the ground. I continued walking until I saw something glow in the distance. At first, I thought it was my camera, but even after dropping it, it was still there. Trying to remain quite, but quick, I walked towards it. I could hear a soft babbling of a stream or river and as I got closer, I saw a bridge.  
The sight made me gasp. The bridge over the river was lined with candles. They caught the river, sending dancing images into the rushing water. Candles were along the top of the railing, and on the edges, the scent wafting towards me in a sweet vanilla and lilac. A figure was standing in the middle, hands shoved in their pockets, head down. I walked closer, and saw it was a guy. Quickly, I lifted my camera, snapping a few pictures before he could notice. His shoulders slightly hunched. His hair an extremely curly mop on the top of his head. He stepped closer to the edge of the bridge were the candles rested. His right foot slid back and just as it started to kick forward-  
"Wait!" I called out before I could stop myself, not dropping the camera. His head snapped towards me and I was met with the most beautiful green eyes candlelight had ever produced.  
"Pardon?" He set his foot down. I swallowed. His voice was deep and his accent sent chills down my spine.  
"I'm sorry." I quickly put down my camera. His eyes glanced me over and I flushed, looking down at my loose ivory tank with a silver sparkly bow on the front, black cardigan, dark wash skinny jeans, and Steve Maddens. "I was just uh..."  
"What are you doing out so late?" He cocked his head to the side, his hair getting into his eyes.  
"I uh... Well-" I took a deep breathe. "I was taking pictures. Lost track of time...." The silence hung in the air, him staring at me, I staring at him. "I saw the candle light. It's beautiful."  
"Thanks." He shrugged, looking down again. I took the opportunity to study him. He was wearing a blazer, and skinny jeans with what looked like dress shoes.  
"Are you meeting someone?" I asked.  
He took out his phone, the light illuminating his face. "No, not anymore."  
"Oh. I'm sorry."  
He furrowed his eyebrows. "What for?"  
I flushed. "This was obviously supposed to be a romantic date. I shouldn't have intruded. I'm sorry."  
"It's..." He let out a breath. "Did you want to take pictures?"  
"No-well, yes, but no. I mean... It's fine. I'll be going now-"  
"You can if you want. Take pictures, I mean."  
"Really?" I couldn't keep the excitement out of my voice. His lips twitched into a sort of smile. "Thank you."  
"No problem. Do you want me to get off?"  
"Oh, no. I mean, this is your creation. I'm just here to capture the beauty." He stood there at my words, and I lifted my camera back up.  
"Anything you want me to do?"  
"When you were getting ready to kick the candle, can you do that again?" He nodded, and turned. Soon he began moving around, not having to be instructed. He leaned against the railing, candles lighting the side of his face. His hands shoved in his pockets again, he actually kicked a candle. I watched as the candle was sent over the edge and sailed into the river.  
"Do you know what time it is?" I asked.  
"About 3 in the morning."  
"How long were you out here?"  
"Since one."  
"Oh."  
"What are you doing out so late?"  
"Like I said, I was taking pictures of London. I just got in from the states-"  
"You're from America?" He glanced up at me.  
I nodded. "I live there. I'm staying in London for the summer. But I was taking pictures for my summer project, and found myself here."  
"Summer project for work?"  
I snorted, despite myself. "No. I wish. I'm still in school. I'm on summer break. I'm a photographer for my school, and I create collages and montages for the beginning of the year."  
"Sounds like fun."  
"It is." I nodded, smiling at him. "And you?"  
"Out of school. Thankfully. I'm currently on break from tour."  
"Tour? Are you like a musician or something?"  
His snapped his head towards me. I froze under his intense stare. "You mean you don't know?"  
"Um. I just met you. I don't read minds, sorry."  
The corner of his mouth kicked up. "No, I suppose you don't. I am a musician."  
"Cool. What genre?"  
"We're trying for the pop scene." He chuckled. "What do you listen to?"  
"Indie mostly. I like things that most people don't know. Mainstream is just too..."  
"Mainstream?" He offered.  
I laughed. "It gets claustrophobic. I like the idea of being different. If you couldn't tell from my outfit."  
"I do like your beanie."  
"Thanks. Do you wear them?"  
"Sometimes." He smirks. I must have looked puzzled because he just continued to smirk at me. "I'm Harry." He held out his hand. I stepped forward and took his hand-  
Jumping away, I jerked my hand away from his. I stared wide eyed at him, then at my hand. My fingertips still tingled.  
"I'm sorry." We said at the same time. I bit my lip and held my hand out again.  
"I'm Leighton. It was lovely to meet you Harry."  
"You would never know you were American." His smile was so infectious. "You have a great British accent."  
"Thanks." I withdrew my hand. "I have to get going now." I started walking away from the bridge. "I hope the lady who didn't show up regrets it. This is honestly all a girl could wish for."  
"Thank you."  
"Have a pleasant life, Harry."  
"And you as well Leighton."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! So this is my first story I've ever posted on anything. In case you didn't catch it, this story is old. Like 2012 old. But I really wanted to post it because even three years later I still love it. I know it's super short, but let me know what you think. I have most of it written, so I'll keep updating. I would love feedback, and I can't wait for the journey of Leighton.   
> Also, I want to point out something big for this story. This is a novel about Leighton, that has Harry in it. It focuses on her a lot, and her growth with Harry-and of course the boys-there to support her, and rough things up a bit!   
> Last thing, because this was three years okay, I was like a freshman or something, so some things may be inaccurate, but I'll try my best to edit it as I go along and keep things in check. As I pick back up where I left off, I can guarantee that there will be some mistakes, because again, this is set back in 2012. (I live in New York, not London, but I've looked a lot into it, so I'm going to try my best to keep things accurate.)   
> If I'm totally off my shit, just let me know!
> 
> Much love,   
> Rikkibabyy xx


	2. Ivory Tower

I sighed staring at the table in front of me. A violin concerto echoed throughout the restaurant and there was a soft hush of voices and clinking of glasses. The lights were dimmed slightly giving a warm and inviting mood. Dark woods and warm reds were what decorated the place. The cream tablecloth was topped with fine china and a vase full of roses and lilies. Everyone seemed to fit in, in their formal attire and posh attitudes.

Everyone, that is, except me. I was wearing a white cardigan, and a white tee with an owl on the front of it. Skinny jeans and Steve Maddens were set to match. I was like a neon sign, attracting unwanted attention. This, though, was not my idea. I would have been happy going to Panera for lunch. But mother insisted on a formal restaurant-and I insisted on wearing what I wanted.

"Honey. I really wish you would have changed." She admonished me.

"I really wish we'd gone to Panera."

She sighed. "Well, at least we're having this lunch."

"What did you want to tell me?" I moved out of the way, as the waiter set down my dish of lemon chicken soup.

"I just wanted to discuss your plans after this summer-"

"Beverly." I sighed, closing my eyes. I never called my mom 'mom'. It was always her name. And she liked it that way. "I just graduated from High School. Literally. As in this morning. We established that I'm going to intern at Christian Vaun Photography. In London. I'm moving to London, Beverly. And nothing will stop me." I looked down at my feet where my brown fringe bag and Canon camera case resided. The thought of staying in London-not just for the summer, but for real-was so exhilarating, nothing could bring down my mood.

"I know that." She grimaced. "I just wish it wasn't _photography_." I rolled my eyes at her words. We had this discussion at least once a week. "Why not business, or something, darling? And stay in New York."

"I don't like New York. You know that. I'd rather be in London. That's where I was meant to be. I'm going, Beverly."

"I could always sell the flat." There was that shock again of her British habits slipping through. She was the epitome of Upper East Side gentile. Blonde hair done up in a tight bun. Conservative dark dress with modest heels. Nails perfectly manicured, make up flawless. I'm sure it was the pole that was up her ass that made her sit up tall.

"No you can't. Dad gave it to Uncle Richard, until I turn 18 where I get it. You can't sell it."

"There's no need to be rash with your mother." Wilson cut in.

I glared at him. "I didn't realize I was. I was just stating the truth."

"I'm still going to Paris, right, mommy?" Gemavera asserted. "With Uncle Richard and Aunt Sally?"

"Of course darling." My mother smiled fondly at her. Why wouldn't she? Gemavera was the daughter Beverly couldn't get from me. She was poise and polite-don't me wrong, so was I, but I also wasn't afraid to speak my mind. Her brown hair hung straight at her side, so light it looked almost blonde, like my mother's hair. She had blue eyes that always seemed to show feigned interest. The perfect society daughter. I crossed my legs and leaned back in my chair.

"I hope you have fun in Paris." I said honestly.

"Don't mock your sister." Wilson snapped. I swear this man was always trying to pick a fight with me. I don't think he approved of my career choice either, as of the fact he's a rich businessman in the middle of New York City. He's also husband number six.

"I wasn't!" I argued. "I'm being serious! I hope she does. She seems to know more French than I do, which is scary since you're only twelve."

"I do go there every summer." She rolled her eyes.

"It's not polite to do that, dear." Gemavera nodded at Beverly's words, her concentration as if she was going to commit it to memory.

"Why can't you go to Paris?" She asked.

"Because that chateau is not big enough for the both of us. And London is my home. Like Paris is Gemavera's and this is yours." I sighed. "I'm sorry, but I'm not going to change my mind. It's already set, anyways. I have the plane taking me at three, and Thomas picking me up at Heathrow. I have a meeting at Vaun's the following day. It's a done deal." I stood, gathering my things. Beverly's eyes flashed.

"You are not leaving during your graduation lunch."

"I didn't pick this. I chose Panera. I wouldn't have left if you had agreed to that." I slung my bag over my shoulder, took out my camera, and headed to the front door leaving a silent and obedient Gemavera, brownnoser Wilson, and my sputtering mother.

Walking around New York, I took pictures as if it would be the last time. First, I stood at corners and took pictures of people as they bustled past, no one caring for the next person, everyone trying to rush to wherever they needed to be. As I walked I saw people seated in restaurants, and I snapped a few of those-I got a good one of a couple who looked so in love, as if they were the only two in the room. The camera was able to catch his smile and the sparkle in her eyes. I couldn't help but smile fondly as I headed up and down the streets of the city, heading towards Central Park. I sat at the bench for what seemed like hours taking pictures of the flowers, and trees, the people and children, of the atmosphere and the city.

The sun was setting when I saw a familiar black car park on the side of the road. I chose to ignore it. Nevertheless, the driver got out and started walking towards me. I turned my back to him and started snapping away.

"You must be getting home." He said behind me.

"Steven." I sighed. "I don't want to go home. It's not a home anyways. It's a penthouse in which I never planned on going back to." I turned and snapped a quick picture of him before he could notice, and smiled when I saw the result.

He clicked his tongue. "You really need to start asking people for their permission on taking their pictures."

"It's not like they're going to get published." I shrugged. "Do I have to get back home?"

"I'm afraid so."He shrugged, trying not to show his frown. I nodded and followed him back to the black Mercedes. He opened the back door for me, but I raised an eyebrow and headed for the passenger seat.

"Wrong one, Steven." I chuckled. "I'm not high class like my mother, nor my sister."

"Yes, but it was high class that got you that camera, your classes, and that intern opportunity." He said when he started the car. I chose to ignore that. Quickly I switched out the newly full SIM card with a new one. I grabbed a small container that resided in the bottom of my brown fringe bag and snapped it open. It had dividers for ever SIM card that I have used up. Currently, I only had two spaces left.

"Need a new one?" Steven smirked.

"I have tons of these. Maybe I should just clean them. After all, all of my pictures are on my laptop."

"Yes, but what happens if your laptop get's hacked or crashes." _Like last time._

"True." I agreed. We were silent for the rest of the ride as he settled into the traffic that is New York, traveling down Park Avenue, and I lost myself in the soft shutter noises as I clicked away.

Steven was our family chauffer and was by far the closest to me than anyone else. Out of everything in this chaos of New York elite, he was my guidance and constant rock. He's always there for me when I need a stable father figure-he was also the husband to my childhood nanny. When he had picked me up from dance lessons-which I hated-or piano lessons-which I dropped-or any other extra-curricular club/sport/music, he would ask me about my day and I would tell him the complete truth. I was also close to his wife, Nancy who was now Gemavera's nanny until she turns fourteen. He always knew just what to say to me when I was in a bad mood, or frustrated. Whenever I had a problem, I would go to him and he wouldn't tell me what I wanted to hear, but tell me what needed to be said. With that said, I learned quickly that I couldn't always get my way and that sometimes I just had to go with it.

"What do you think London will be like?" I asked after a while.

"You go every summer, Leighton." He chuckled. "You would know better than anyone."

"I know. But, I mean, like living there. Not just for summer, but for real. I'm going to be working there. Maybe go to school there. I'm raising my future kids there and I'm dying there."

"Are you?" I nodded. "Then what do you need my opinion for? You already have everything settled. It seems to me that you're getting cold feet."

"Cold feet?" I snorted. "As if. I was just... I don't know what I'd do without you and Nancy and Susan-"She's the cook"-I mean. I would come home after a car ride and long talk with you, eat the snack Susan makes me, and then have Nancy help me with homework."

"Yes. But you're grown up now. Leighton we can't always be there for you. It's time that you grow up and live your life-whether it's here, down the street or another country."

I closed my eyes and put my camera in my lap. "You're right. I'm a big girl. It's just like a long vacation." Just one that I won't come back from...

When we pulled up to 432 Park Avenue, I was thrown into a whirlwind of emotions, most contradicting each other. The towering fortress gave me an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. I would walk through the modern lobby, and escorted up to one of the top floors, where i would be sucked into a world of black and white and chrome. Vast sitting room, with expensive furniture and tasteful art by artists whose names you can't pronounce. Everything looking so untouched, so unloved.

I was not going to miss this place.

"Nancy already started packing up what you had left." Steven pulled me from my reverie.

"Oh, okay. Thanks." He dropped me off in front of the apartment, and i was whisked through the lobby and up towards the ivory tower. Ignoring the main rooms, I headed down the hall, taking a sharp right and into the place that was my bedroom. It was dull in soft blue and white. White furniture, blue bed sheets, accents, and accessories. It was as if it was made by a decorator and no on actually lived in here. My closet door was opened, and empty off all clothes, shoes and bags. My vanity in the corner had its drawers open, bare of all brushes, and make up products. Suitcases littered the floor around my bed leading toward my door. A figure was on the side closest to the window folding a shirt.

"Hey, Nancy." I smiled at her. She looked up, tucking stray blond hair behind her hair. She wore jeans and a loose blouse that only revealed her swollen belly.

"Hello, Leighton. Home so soon?"

I snorted. "It's past dinner. How mad is she?"

"Mad enough to agree to letting Gemavera sleep over at that awful girl's house."

"Ah." I nodded. So in other words, Beverly didn't care. "Need help?"

"No, no. You save your energy for when you have to unpack." She grinned over at me. "Can you believe it? You're _finally_ moving to London. You've been wanting this for as long as I can remember."

I wandered into the closet and began shutting drawers and closing cabinets. "I know. I can't believe this is really happening."

"What do you think you're going to miss the most?"

I let out a breath, silence hanging in the air for a few moments. "You and Steven. I think that's it." I looked around the room. "You two were the only stable things I had in this whirlwind of Beverly. Six husbands and too many affairs to count, business deals and fancy parties. Traveling and cities all over the world becoming all too familiar. Nothing was stable for me. Nothing was normal. You two were the only things that I could look forward to being here when I got back."

She smiled fondly at me before taking my hand. First she squeezed it, then she placed in on her belly. I gasped when i felt the baby move around, letting me know he was there. "I'm glad I can be here for you. And raising you and helping with Vera, I know I'm going to do my utmost best with this little one."

"That baby will be loved and cherished." I assured her. "Don't worry. You will be amazing. Look at how I turned out!" I joked.

She chuckled. "Yes, yes. A very strong independent girl with a mind of her own who completely went the opposite direction of the society she grew up in. Becoming an intern at _Christian Vaun_ of all places and in London, the city of your dreams. That's all I could ever hope for you."

I felt the blood drain from my face as I watched people come in and out to grab all my belongings that were neatly packed away in fabric cases. I swallowed.

"Don't worry." She played with the ends of my fishtail. "Everything will be alright. Take your shower and change. Steven and I planned a movie night for us three before you go."

After everything was said and done, I was standing in the elevator, my anxiety rising as I traveled down, staring blankly at the doors. It was about two in the morning and I was clad in yoga pants, tank and cardigan with my signature Steve Madden's and matching beanie. A calming hand gripped mine.

"We'll visit. No worries. We have practically all summer while Vera's in Paris." Those words assured me, and a smile quirked up on the corner of my mouth. "It will be fantastic. Make sure to write and email and call whenever you can."

"I will." I promised.

"Oh, this is so great!" Nancy clapped. "Let's go. I can't wait to see you off. My big girl all grown up!" Us three piled in the car, Steven, Nancy and I. Beverly was out with Wilson at some formal party for his job, so I knew she wouldn't say goodbye, and Gemavera was at a friend's house so I knew that she, too, wouldn't bother enough to say her goodbyes.

We drove in silence all the way to the airport. I held my camera tightly in my hands, counting the minutes until I was on that plane. We arrived just as they were putting my luggage onto the private plane. The three of us got out and walked towards the steps of the plane.

Nancy let out breath and played with the ends of my hair. "I'll miss you. So much, Leighton."

"I'll miss you, too. And you Steven!" I hugged them both tightly.

"And I you, Leighton. I'll miss those normal conversations." He winked. I grinned.

"I'm actually doing it."

"You're doing it!" Nancy hugged me again. I squeezed my eyes shut, embedding this into my memory. "I love you, dear."

"Love you too. Both of you." We said one last goodbye before I headed up the steps and into the plane.

"We'll be taking off in a minute. Please take your seat, Miss Harrow." The pilot said, nodding in greeting before going to the cockpit. I sat on the couch that took up the length of one side and buckled up, staring out the window where Nancy and Steven were standing. The plane jerked forward and I waved the goodbye as the plane headed towards my destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So I don't really know who may or may not be reading this, but to whoever may be, I hope you like it so far. The next chapter will include the boys for sure, I just wanted to introduce these characters and get a feel for how Leighton is. I hope you like it, if you do,hit that kudos button! Tell your friends, share the story!  
> Reminder that these boys are 2012 One Direction, so things will be a little bit different.  
> Lots of Love xx  
> -Rikkibabyy


	3. Those Same Green Eyes

"Miss Harrow?" The flight attendant gently woke me. My eyes flickered open and I gazed at her blankly, before looking around and realizing I was in the private jet. I sat up quickly, any fogginess in my head gone.  
"Are we here?" I looked out the window seeing the rainy skies that I missed so much.  
"Yes. They're unloading your luggage now." She smiled. "Welcome home, Miss Harrow." Those words never sounded so sweet to me. I stood and grabbed my camera case and headed out. Here at Heathrow's private landing port, this plane was the only one I could see. A black car was waiting for me, along with an SUV that carried my luggage. Feeling the soft mist against my cheek and seeing the sun fighting to peek out sent shivers up my spine. I quickly took pictures and headed to the car.  
"To your flat, Miss Harrow?" The driver asked. I studied him through the rear view mirror. Dark hair and dark eyes didn't look familiar as compared to the light hair light-eyed man that I was used to. I frowned, knowing that this was my mother's doing. She had either fired my old driver or moved him to Paris.  
At least she can't sell the terrace.  
I was actually here. In London. With all my luggage. Everything in the SUV behind us. I was to live here. The grin would not leave my face as we drove closer to North London. Everything flashed by, and I was glad I could take pictures with my camera. Everything was as how I planned. Dreary and rainy and perfect. Soon we pulled up to the familiar blue and white terrace at the end of the street. I couldn't stop the squeal and got out, not waiting for the driver, and ran up to the front steps and unlocked the door.  
The first thing you see is the small foyer with a table with a bowl I had used for keys and ultra-modern vases for decoration, and a row of hooks for my ever changing fringe bags. Straight to my left in the open floor plan was the living room, all in black and white-like the rest of the house. The black couch and chairs, and the white and glass coffee table. The back of the couch was facing me, and the love seat facing the clove of the bay window. A black and white rug on the floor, and an espresso black entertainment center with a wide screen against the wall. Tall espresso shelves were on either side of the wall of the TV that faced me along with a marble fireplace.  
Next, was the kitchen that was separated from the living rooms by a bar counter, complete with black and white stools. The kitchen was in-you guessed it- black and white. Black espresso cabinets, snow white counter tops, and stainless steel appliances. In the center was an island where the counter top stove rested. In the back of the terrace was the dining room, with white leather chairs and espresso table and white chandelier. To the right were a guest bedroom and a private bath.  
"Ma'am." One of the servants stepped into the house, placing the bags just to the side of the door. "Where would you like these?"  
"Upstairs. Down the hall. Thank you." I stepped aside and he along with the rest of servants headed up the stairs. The stairs were of dark mahogany with a few steps, a landing, and then up the left to the second floor. I set my camera on the table by the door, and my bag on the hook. Breathing a sigh of relief, I leaned against the banister. I watched as the army of men came in and out of the house carrying my things that hadn't already been shipped over. When they filed out and drove away, I felt a piece of my old life drift away, crumbling and mixing into the wind of my past.  
A slow grin spread of my face-I swear, I've smiled more these past twenty-four hours than I have in months! I headed up the steps and saw they had put my luggage in my room. The hall was in white, with black chair railing. Straight across from the stairs is what would be my sister's room, with a private bath. As you turn down the hall, you come to a linen closet, then my room the very last door. Glancing at the stairs up to the third level, I felt a stab of brief annoyance. Beverly's room was up there, along with the study. Why had I not taken the opportunity to take that room?  
You know why. My inner voice whispered. I ignored it. Opening the black door, I stepped into a burst of color. The walls of my room were a bright blue, causing my eyes to strain for a minute as they adjusted to the sudden color. The bay window was directly in front of me, and I walked towards it, staring down into the street, seeing people bustle about. My hands rested on my white desk that was still cluttered with paper that I never rid of. On the same wall was my bookshelf, full of pictures and frames and books on art photography and of course, the ever-present romance novels. The adjacent wall had two doors, one to my bathroom and the other to my closet. The wall with my door held my white dresser full of jewelry that I had left here, and an open jewelry box. My hamper, bright green, was empty and almost felt like it was waiting for me to not actually use, but use the space around it, like I usually did. My bed was along the same wall; my nightstand had an alarm clock, a lamp in green and a book that I had finished the night before I left last summer. My bed had bright green and blue sheets on it, with a white bed frame.  
"I missed you." I whispered sinking onto my bed. My fingers ran over the sheets as I looked at the final wall. It was full of pictures, so many you couldn't see the paint color. It was full of my favorite pictures, all tacked to the wall. Some edges curled from being up there so long, but other pristine, as if I had just put them up-and I had.  
"No." I told myself, moving away from the pictures. I wouldn't allow myself to think about that now. Scanning the room, I decided to take a shower then start unpacking. Later tonight, I will go for a walk.  
The time for that walk had come. I took my shower, set everything up in my bathroom; putting up shampoos, conditioners, body washes in the glass shower and the built in shelf on the wall next to the claw bathtub. The counter that took up one wall was filled with brushes, make up and other excesses, the mirror above the sink already having a picture of New York stubbed in the corner. Along with the bathroom, I had started unpacking clothes and had all my accessories out and my outfit planned for tomorrow for work.  
Work.  
The thought sent shivers down my spine. I'm to work. Tomorrow. At my dream internship. I couldn't believe this was really happening. I had just finished school literally two days ago, and I was already getting my dream job-even before college!  
With my laptop settled on my bed and my iPhone set next to it along with my camera and SIM cards, I finally allowed myself to look at the pictures on the wall. There were pictures of when I had just started taking pictures, mostly of nature and inanimate objects. But soon there were pictures of people and things that people would have found odd, like a tree that was dead and had burned that I saw a few years ago when I had gone with my mom to Australia on a business trip. Koalas-my favorite animal-were popular pictures at the time. I had pictures of sunsets and rainstorms, lightening, and rainbows. I had pictures of performers and people and-  
The bridge. It stood out to me like nothing else. The feelings and connection with these photos were profound. I had gotten one picture of that boy, Harry, with his hands shoved in his pockets, leaning against the railing and staring intently at me. I spent hours after that incident staring at it, reliving that moment over and over. The knot in my stomach always comes back when I think about that night. Of candles and shadows and hurt and anger and embarrassment in his eyes. He's beautiful green eyes...  
Before I realized what I was doing, I slipped on my jacket, grabbed my camera and bag and was out the door after locking it. With a purpose, I headed in the direction of that bridge. The anticipation in me began to build as I got closer, and the sun set lower. Taking pictures along the way, I strode closer and closer to my destination.  
The area was the same. The city illuminating the background, a path that led to the woods. Staring down into the river, I could almost hear the splash of the candles hitting the bubbling water. I walked on to the bridge and leaned against the railing, sighing. I couldn't help but feel a stab of disappointment.  
Well what did you expect? Him to be here waiting for you, telling you that you're The One? My subconscious sneered at me. I hadn't really thought of that, but a small part of me still hoped that there would be any indication that he remembered me. But why? What was the point? I mean, he only met me once, and was probably thinking I was a lunatic because I had asked to take so many pictures of a stranger. But he agreed to it, and he wasn't afraid of the camera, I reasoned.  
I wonder how his music is going... I trailed off, thinking about that conversation. I thought about it at least a hundred times. Which, to be perfectly honest, the whole situation of meeting this stranger and a year later, still thinking of him was crazy. I mean, what are the odds that I will ever see him again. Slim to none. Especially since it was summer and it was the perfect time for people to travel into the London on any sort of vacation. The notion of me ever seeing him again was ridiculous.  
On the way back to the flat, I reasoned and argued with myself about the whole concept. One side of me wanted to believe that he hadn't forgotten, but another part of me just knew that there was no way that he would remember me from a year ago, a random girl taking pictures of him, because the girl he was in love with didn't show up to his romantic surprise. But that brought me to the idea that maybe he did remember me, because I was there when his love wasn't. I had showed up and-or at least I hoped to-made him feel better.  
It's safe to leave the past in the past. The little voice inside my head whispered. Yes, I agreed. Dwelling on the past was never a good idea for me. Seeing a market a couple blocks away from the flat, I decided I would go there after work, but for now go to a deli and get a sandwich. With supper planned out and knowing I would go to Prufrock in the morning for my coffee and pastry-my ritual for when I was here during the summer.  
When I got back to my flat I curled up on my bed, and started sorting through my photos until the soft hum of my laptop and melodies that floated from my iPod drifted me to sleep.  
The buzz in my system could have been from my mocha from Prufrock, but I was too nervous to pay that any mind. My mind was racing in a million different directions at a million miles per hour and my hands were shaking slightly. I was standing on the subway heading down to Central London where the main headquarters was. On my shoulder was my studded leather bag that held my camera, back up SIM cards and my portfolio.  
You can do this. I never understood why I do the pep talk thing-it has never worked. But I did it anyways as I continued to sip on my mocha. I watched the people around me, wishing I had my camera out. A man was falling asleep in his seat as he clutched his coffee and brief case. An elderly couple was whispering to each other, looking lovingly into each other's eyes. A younger couple was bickering, but both had smiles on their faces, oblivious to the world. A baby in its carrier slept peacefully as the mother gently rocked it, humming. In the corner, though, was a girl plainly out of place. With an outfit that would have been considered unconventional-but I adored-and bobbing her head about to the music coming through her earphones that no one else could hear and dancing in place she clearly was lost in her own world that no one could rip her away from. I grinned watching her, and my mood seemed to lift thinking that, back in New York, I was exactly that type of person.  
It was time for me to get off and walk the rest of the way. I swallowed and headed down the street, where I would make a right and continue two blocks. I focused on keeping a steady rhythm, listening to the sound of my studded Steve Madden's hitting the concrete. It was the only thing keeping me from running to the headquarters. I had tried and managed to get there early so I had a few minutes. I took my time, and snapped a few pictures, grinning at how much it calmed my nerves. The building with the title Christian Vaun on a discreet plaque next to the door made me stop. I took a couple deep breathes, and backed up a little to look into the window. Through the reflection, I did a quick one over. Black skinny jeans, white loose tank, studded leather jacket. Black beanie covering the top of my curly brown hair that I left down, stacked rings on one hand in copper, silver, and black, and a knuckled ring in black on the other. I pulled my hair over my shoulder and with one final deep breathe; I opened the door and headed into what would later be my omen.  
The building was done in a modern feel, all metal and wood and glass. I walked into an open foyer with dark grey walls and lighter grey floors. It branched into two different hallways, where one I could see couches and lounge chairs-that had to be the waiting room. From my viewpoint, I couldn't see what was in the other room or hall. I walked slowly towards the front desk made out of glass and metal, with a man sitting behind it, on the phone flipping through a planner. I admired his thick-rimmed glasses and suspenders. He glanced up at me and gave a fleeting fake smile that I'm sure he plastered on his face to anyone who walked in. I took the opportunity to look around again. Photos upon photos covered the wall creatively. Pictures of models and stills and what looked to be cut out of commercials and videos. My heart was pounding out of my chest, and I had stopped breathing. Maybe, one day, my pictures will grace these walls...  
"What can I help you with?" The man asked. I focused and took a much needed breath.  
"I'm Leighton Harrow, the new intern."  
"Sure sure." He gave a small wave of his hand. "He'll be with you in a minute. Have a seat in the waiting room." He picked up the phone again, scribbling all over the planner. I made my way into that room and was struck by it. Every inch of this room was grey, except for the natural lighting that came in through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the far wall. The entrance wall was curved, giving the room a round feel. A grey sectional dominated the room facing a wall with a dark grey, almost black coffee table with magazines, pictures and a potted plant. The walls were again filled with pictures of various things, and I felt a shiver run up my spine. As I stared at the room, I kept going back to a gallery. This room had reminded me of an art gallery. With photos on the wall, and dark and light grey benches underneath.  
I reminded myself to not wear any sort of grey while working here.  
Quickly, I pulled out my camera and snapped a few pictures before sitting down on the edge of the sectional. Briefly, I wondered if anyone actually sat on this couch, waiting for someone to show up. Who would wait in here? Surely they had something different for executives and CEO's and very important people. Maybe that's what the other room was. I could hear the slapping of shoes against the tile heading into my direction. I quickly stood and ran my fingers through the ends of my hair.  
"You're late." A man dressed in a suit snapped. All black and white it was, and he had dark hair and light blue eyes that cut through you like ice. He turned back around and started walking towards the entrance. I scurried after him, flushing.  
"I'm sorry sir." I quickly apologized. "It won't happen again, sir."  
"Are you the American?" He went to the reception desk, picked up a pile of papers and leafed through them. The man behind it, sat there, frozen, waiting.  
"Oh, yes, sorry." I bit back my accent that seemed to come naturally to me.  
"Your cabs here, Mr. Till." The man said, hanging up the phone that hadn't rang.  
"Thank you Wesley." He nodded. "Let's go." He set the papers down and turned sharply to the front door. With a fleeting glance at Wesley I ran after him.  
"What your name, lass?" He opened the back door of the black cab, and waited for me to get in.  
I stumbled into the cab as I answered, "Leighton-" He slammed the door shut. "Leighton Harrow." I whispered to no one.  
"Well, Leighton." He got in on his side. "We have a very busy schedule and we do not tolerate anyone being late. If you're late again, I'm afraid you're canned."  
I blanched. I wasn't even late! I was on time! I looked down at my watch and saw that it was only ten after eight.  
"What did you take a picture of?" He nodded towards my camera. I looked down and saw that I was gripping it, knuckles white.  
"The, uh... Waiting room."  
"Waiting room?" He raised a condescending eyebrow. "You mean the lounge?"  
"Yes, yes of course." I nodded.  
"Let me see." I stared at him, surely the look of bewilderment on my face. No one touched my camera. No one. "Leighton, you have to trust people with your camera. Or else you will go nowhere in this business. Understood?"  
"Yes, sir." I mumbled handing it over. I felt like I was five again, getting admonished for something petty.  
"What kind of camera is this?"  
"Canon EOS 5D Mark III, sir."  
"Brilliant camera, I say." He nodded, and started going through my photos.  
"What-sir-"  
"These are great pictures of the lounge."  
"Thank you." I flushed. "Hey!" I shouted at him, watching in horror as he deleted them. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"  
"No pictures of the Vaun headquarters." He handed the camera back to me. I fumed. "But they are brilliant." He said in what seemed like an offhanded comment. "You wouldn't happen to be Leighton Harrow, of the Rivingtons?"  
"How many Leighton's do you know, sir?" It was meant to be a rhetoric question.  
"Point well made." He nodded, rubbing his chin as if it wasn't perfectly shaved, and he had the threat of a five o'clock shadow. "Your work is rather fantastic. Christian Vaun will be thrilled to have you on the team."  
"Team?" I squeaked, turning bright red.  
"Well yes, you're gifted and Christian Vaun will do anything to say that he trained you in this business."  
"Oh." Okay, so maybe this guy wasn't so bad...  
"Of course," He added. "I don't see why the Christian Vaun thinks he needs a child to baby-sit."  
"With all due respect sir." I snapped. "I'm living here in London, by myself, a legal adult. I don't need a babysitter."  
"Oh no, of course not." He chuckled. I glared at him, my fingers curling into fists again around my camera. I took a couple deep breathes, and lifted my camera out the window when he stilled at a red light.  
"Did I not just say no pictures-"  
"The outside world has nothing to do with Christian Vaun and his headquarters." I cut him off. He glared back at me before he took out his phone and growled into it. I went back to the window and focused on calming my nerves.  
It wasn't long before the cab pulled over and Mr. Till got out. I followed suit after putting my camera back in the bag and raced after him into another discreet building.  
"This is the North London Studio. He has another in South London. As well as all over the world, I might add..."  
"I know." I nodded. I know just about everything about this man and this business.  
"Good." He opened the door and this time not waiting for me, walked in. I followed. "This is where the photo shoot will be held-"  
"You're late!" A voice boomed as a small man charged at us. He was shorter than I was, with graying hair and beard, and a bit of a French accent with his English one. I froze and all the blood drained from my face. "You're completely and utterly late! Do you know what happens when you're late? Everything gets put on hold, more money is spent and you get fired!" His face was turning red and I could see the veins popping out of his neck. "You better have a brilliant reason as to why you're late!"  
"I'm sorry, Mr. Vaun, sir." I mumbled.  
"Sorry? Sorry! Is that what you are? Who the bloody hell do you think you are anyways?"  
"It won't happen again sir, I promise." I held out my hand. He glared at me, then at my hand before scoffing,  
"You cannot go around being late and coming in when you choose, just because your mummy is Beverly Rivington of the Rivingtons! No matter how rich she is!"  
"I understand, sir. It won't happen again."  
"Your right it won't happen again! I had to hold up this whole shoot because of you!" He hollered. "Now, get McKenna and go get coffee and tea."  
"Who's McKenna, sir?" I asked.  
"Do I look like I have time for introductions?" He turned abruptly and stormed away, shouting different things at different people.  
"Don't worry." A girl said behind me. I jumped and turned around. Mr. Till ran after Vaun. "He's usually crabby with clientele like this one." She grinned at me. "I'm McKenna. Let's go get coffee before he finds something to blame us with." She led me out the door and down the street.  
"Hi." I finally spoke. "I'm-"  
"Leighton Harrow of the Rivingtons. Yeah, I know. Everyone here knows. Your mom's super influential and you're a fabulous photographer. It really is a great thing having you here with us. You'll like Vaun. He's cool past all of this."  
"Great. How long does it take for him to warm up?"  
"Oh, uh a couple years maybe. It took me three."  
"When did you start working here?"  
"Eighteen, like you." She flashed a grin. Her blond curly hair bounced as we walked, and her blue eyes filled with nothing but excitement. Holy cow, I thought. She's 21. She looked my age.  
In fact, she looked a lot like me. I glanced in the windows as we walked, and was struck by how much we looked a like.  
"You wouldn't happen to be a long lost Rivington, would you?" I asked, uneasy.  
"Oh, no!" She laughed. "If only! I'm an Ambridge."  
"Oh."  
"How do you like your coffee? Or do you want tea?"  
"Coffee. A white chocolate mocha with a splash of peppermint and cinnamon."  
"Sounds delicious. I'll try one." We entered a Prufrock-much to my delight-and placed an order under Vaun usual with two mocha's.  
"They had a Vaun usual?"  
"We come here daily. It's like clockwork." She paid, handed me a tray, took the other and we headed back. She chatted to me about the daily life of Vaun and what I was going to be assigned doing. Once we got there, we were bombarded by walking business suits and left with three coffees.  
"Here." She handed me mine and another. "This is Mr. Vaun's. He's at the set. I have to go to fitting."  
I furrowed my eyebrows. "Are you modeling?"  
She snorted. "As if. I'm clothing assistant. I'm going to school for fashion design."  
"Oh." I nodded. "That's really cool."  
"Thanks." She beamed, letting out an airy giggle before prancing off. I took a deep breath and headed towards the set.  
"Where is me-" He stopped once seeing me and grabbed his coffee. "You're late, again."  
"It was five minutes, Mr. Vaun."  
"Make it three next time." He snapped and turned away from me. "Your job for today, is to stay out of the way. I don't need the new girl messing this shoot up." And with that, he and a group of smart looking people raced off.  
"Okay." I sighed, hitching my bag up higher on my shoulder, and taking a sip of my coffee. I wandered around watching and looking around. The place was much bigger than it looked. It must have taken what looked like the two buildings on either side of it. With big floor to ceiling windows, a lot of natural light came through. The first floor was decked out in black and white-reminding me a lot of my flat. In the back here was a hallway with a lot of doors in which people were walking in and out of. I reminded myself to look through them at a later time, when Mr. Vaun wouldn't potentially have a coronary. The main area was a big open floor plan, where you can see the shoot and the front entrance. A metal spiral staircase was set in the middle of room, the only thing blocking the view to the other side of the room. Looking up, I could see a balcony where you can look over. And a few people were. I couldn't see up there, but I assumed it was where the meeting rooms and offices were.  
After much wandering and exploring, I had finished my mocha and started snapping pictures. I took pictures of the men towering over lighting, the people leaning over the balcony, Mr. Vaun inspecting his own camera. People milling about, and laughing, and racing back and forth from the hallway to the shoot were peculiar subjects.  
"Leighton!" Mr. Vaun shouted. I quickly lowered my camera, it bouncing against my stomach and tugged at the strap, and headed towards him.  
"Yes, sir."  
"Go see if the boys are on set." He walked away, and I was left along and clueless. Giving a quick shake of my head, I headed towards the shoot, snapping a few along the way. I decided that these pictures would look great in black white. I made a mental note of that.  
My viewpoint was through the lens of the camera when I made it to the shoot. I stood off to the side and snapped a few, then watched, as if in slow motion, five boys walk onto the set. I stood dumbfounded as they laughed and pushed each other. Then one of the boys with dark curly hair turned his head and gazed at me, a smirk forming on his lips. I snapped a quick picture, before pulling the camera down to look at it. His green eyes penetrated through the film and a shock went through my system. My camera slipped through my numbing fingers as I looked up in awestruck horror and was met with those same green eyes I had met exactly a year ago.  
"Harry." I whispered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I know it was just a brief intro of the boys-they're so young here it hurts looking back at it! I wanna post the next part soon though! I hope you all like it so far, this story was a pride and joy for the longest time, and I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I was writing this.  
> lots of love,  
> \- Rikkibabyy xx


	4. Capture the Beauty

 

I stood there dumbfounded, watching as he nudged the guy standing next to him, causing him to look over at me. He chuckled and nodded at him. Oh God. Harry's talking about me. Does he know it's me? Does he recognize me? I looked down, flushing, knowing that they were all staring at me now.

"Aren't they just gorgeous?" McKenna giggled, her blood red pumps clicking into view. I glanced over at her, and she was staring at them. "I mean, it's One Direction!"

"Wait-" I snapped my head towards them, whipping out my phone. I pulled them up and held it up. "Oh my God!" I could feel the blood draining from my face.

"What? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"I just-" I slid my phone back in my pocket and turned to walk away-

When Mr. Vaun jumped into view. I gasped and stumbled back. "I told you to get me when they were here! More money to be taken from your paycheck!" He bellowed and headed towards his tripod. Closing my eyes, I sighed and followed behind. McKenna gave me an encouraging smile and headed in the opposite direction. When I looked over at the group of five boys, Harry's eyes were following her. I felt my heart sink a little watching before he glanced back at me and flashed a grin. I flushed and lifted up my camera once again.

"Alright, boys!" Mr. Vaun practically cooed. I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "We're going to go ahead and get started." I watched as they all assembled and Christian began snapping away. They had on letterman jackets with their initials on the front. After a while, though, they grew bored and started joking around. I figured it was a perfect time to take some real pictures, so I lifted up my camera and took a few.

"Individuals." Mr. Vaun snapped, and all but one got off. First, he ran his fingers over his short dark hair, and then staring intently at the camera with blue eyes, he gripped the ends of his jacket. A few seconds later, when Mr. Vaun pulled his face away from the camera, he glanced at me and winked. I chuckled and snapped a few. They kept going one by one and as they got off they went back to the hallway and changed. The same boy who winked at me was on again, and the other four were off to the side by the food table.

"Come with me!" McKenna popped up. I jumped. "Your terribly skittish." She giggled. "I want to meet them. Please!"

"But-"

"Oh, _please_. Pretty pretty please?" She pouted. I sighed and obliged. We headed over there, and all four of them fell silent.

"Hello." McKenna nearly fell over herself as she scurried over to them.

"Hey." They smiled at us.

"I just wanted to introduce myself. I'm McKenna Ambridge."

"It's lovely to meet you, McKenna." The blond one grinned at her. She let out a giggle and turned red. I lifted up my camera so she wouldn't see my roll my eyes.

"And you are?" Harry asked me. I snapped a few pictures of his curious face and pulled away to look at them.

"Merely here to capture the beauty of this shoot." I gave a polite, if offhanded, smile. Something in his eyes flashed before he held out his hand. Reluctantly, I held out mine and shook it. This time, though, I didn't let go as I felt the shock run through my fingertips.

"It's lovely to meet you." He smiled.

"Likewise." I gave a polite nod, before turning to the other three. They made faces at me while I took some shots.

"Whoever's next!" Mr. Vaun called.

"That's me." One of the boys, with dark skin and dark hair and a blond streak in it, headed over there.

"Hey!" The boy who was just on set came over. "I was wondering if you were going to come chat us up." He grinned at me. "How'd that picture turn out?"

I grinned back at him. "Pretty great, you want to see?" He nodded and I clicked through my pictures until I reached the end.

"You're brilliant at this," He commented. "These are fantastic pictures-"

"Oh, Harry!" McKenna shrilled. My gaze snapped over at them and watched as she placed a hand on his arm and leaned in. Something hot, red, and angry flared through me as I watched.

"I take it, Harry's your favorite?" He asked.

"What-oh, no. I don't-" I stumbled. "What I mean is-"

"Does anyone have food?" The blond one nearly shouted. "I'm starving."

"We can get Nandos afterward." The guy standing next to him offered, chuckling. McKenna glared at them before going back to Harry, smiling like a fool. I couldn't help but notice that with perfect curly blond hair, and a tight black dress and killer red heels, she looked like a teenage boys' fantasy. I scoffed under my breath at the sight.

"Your awfully jealous." The guy I was standing next to me chuckled.

"I have crisps if you want them." I opened my bag and handed the small bag to him.

"You're me new favorite person." He came over to him, hugged me tightly, causing me to gasp in surprise, and took the bag.

"Are you American or not?" The boy who offered Nandos asked.

"Uh, why?" I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Your accent keeps changing." Harry's eyebrows drew in, and his lips tightened as he stared at me. I snapped a picture, then of the blond eating, then of a jealous looking McKenna.

"Delete that!" She whined. "It's bad."

"You haven't even seen it." I protested but complied.

"What were you going to do, put it on Tumblr?" The boy next to me said in my ear.

"No!" I argued. "I'm not that mean... Well, okay, I can be. But not usually." I watched the boys as they chatted and took pictures. They were all getting called up until there was a break.

"Can you imagine? Harry Styles' was flirting with me!" McKenna grinned.

"You do realize you're older than him?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Age is nothing but a number, love." She shrugged. "Besides, he had a fling with Caroline Flack who was old enough to be his mother."

That piqued my interest as I watched him run his fingers through his hair. He licked his lips, then glanced our way. "What happened?" I asked.

"Oh, it didn't last. I mean, who doesn't show up when _Harry Style's_ calls you for a romantic night on a candlelit bridge?"

There it was again, that pang of familiarity in me that caused my stomach to tighten more than before. I stared at him, hoping he'd remember who I was, hoping he'd suddenly recognize me, walk up to me, and tell him it's been a long time. But that would never happen. He won't remember me. He's Harry Styles, part of a boy band, who no doubt talks to hundreds of girls daily.

"C'mon. Harry keeps looking at me." She took my hand and we headed back over to them.

"Do you happen to have more food?" The blond asked.

"Not that I know of-" I rifled through my bag. "I have a-"

"I'll take it." He cut me off. The boys laughed and over his shoulder I watched as Harry sank gracefully to the ground, pulling the boy with light-ish brown hair with.

"Here." I handed him a chocolate bar. He grinned and joined the boys and they all sat. McKenna immediately started talking to Harry, and the fury flamed back up in me.

_Jealousy_ , my subconscious whispered. Why should I be jealous though? He's not mine, he doesn't remember, ergo, he doesn't know me.

"Harry." I cut off McKenna. He looked over at me, a small smile forming on his lips. I lift up my camera and took a few. He glanced away for a moment, his grin getting bigger, and his cheeks turning slightly pink.

"You really are taken by Harry, aren't you?" The dark skinned one asked.

"I asked her that earlier."

"Why do you ask?" I lower my camera.

"Because you take an awful lot of pictures of him."

"I have an awful amount of picture of all of you. You just don't know it." I shrug. "I uh... I didn't actually _know_ you guys until today." I finished in a mumble.

" _What_!?" McKenna nearly screamed. I flinched. "You've never heard of One Direction?"

"Not until today, no. I don't listen to mainstream much."

"Too claustrophobic?" Harry asked, a small smile forming on his lips, his eyes lighting up. The boys all laughed.

I flushed. "I suppose."

"So you don't even know our names?" The one I've talked to all morning asked.

"'Fraid not, sorry."

"Well-" The boys all grinned at each other and jumped up.

"I'm Louis!" The one who was standing next to Harry put his hands on his hips as if he was superman. "And I honestly think my bum is better than yours." I busted out laughing, bending over at the waist. The other boys laughed along. My stomach began to ache and I had tears in my eyes.

"I'm Liam." The boy I talked to the most bowed. "And I am known as Daddy Direction."

"He can't do anything mildly dangerous. He loves rules, and he never gets mad." Harry informed.

"Nice to finally know your name, Liam." I curtsied.

"I, am Zayn." The dark skinned, dark haired with the random blond streak, said, giving me a penetrating stare.

"He likes mirrors."

"And undressing girls with his eyes." I laughed at that.

"Harry the cheeky at your service!" He grinned at me.

"He's probably had sex with you a few times in his head." Louis staged whispered. I flushed and looked at the blond.

"What-oh, right. My fair lady, I am Niall Horan the only Irish in this mad group of British men here." He mumbled through the chocolate.

"He's also oblivious."

"And probably the greatest person out of all of us."

"That's cute-"

"Breaks over. Sorry boys." Mr. Vaun came over. "We need to get you dressed and ready for the next one."

Sounds great." The boys stood and headed down the hallway with many doors.

"I can't believe you didn't know One Direction," McKenna mumbled. "Who could you possibly listen to?"

"The XX, The Chromatics, Mumford and Sons, MS MR, The Grates, A boy and his Kite-"

"I get it. So is that like, indie alternative stuff?" I nodded. "Okay. We'll we are going to have to get you hooked on the boys, yeah?" She grinned at me and led me back to the shoot.

We managed to get through the next shoot smoothly. It was when they started individuals again that was the problem.

"You know," Harry strolled over to me, standing slightly behind me, as I went through my pictures. I could feel his shoulder touching the back of mine slightly. "I never got your name."

"And you won't." I snapped and turned around - not realizing my mistake until after I did. His green eyes held mine in a dark and determined stare. I was held captive for a long moment until the back of my brain started screaming at me, and I was sure my heart would start hurting from how fast it was pounding.

"Why not?" He finally asked. He licked his lips and took a small step back. I flushed and ducked my head. Briefly, I wondered if I smelt bad but then reasoned that I took a shower, and sprayed perfume. Still, I couldn't help but blush from slight embarrassment.

"Because." I set my jaw. I had to be strong. But he was so charming a year ago... And he got hurt-No, don't think about that. It will be used against you. Besides, a year of fame and fortune can change someone. Surely he isn't the same boy I met last year.

No, he wasn't. He was taller and more built, more fit, his eyes greener than ever, his hair slightly more manageable, but still the curly mess that I had dreamed of, imagined and stared at for the past year. He had grown up in the past year.

"Why not?" He asked again.

"Leighton!" Mr. Vaun shouted. "Go down the street to Nandos and see if the order is ready!"

"Nandos!" Niall practically screamed, causing Liam and Louis to double over laughing.

"Yes, sir!" I sighed in relief and started for the door.

"Wait-" Harry grabbed my arm and I gasped at the shock it gave me. He stared wide-eyed at me. "Is there someone else?"

"Yes. A man I met last year. He was charming, and cute, and genuine. He was romantic and intelligent. It was fantastic talking to him. And I dreamed about him for a year. A whole year. About one simple meeting. A bridge, filled with candles that I saw from a distance." I could see the light in his eyes, and the realization as everything seemed to click into place. But I wasn't done. "He was genuinely hurt, but he let me take pictures anyways. We had a real conversation and it was the realest and most authentic conversation I've had with _anyone_ in a long time. His smile was beautiful because he was trying not to. He was completely and utterly charming, and he was worried for my wellbeing by asking why I was out so late, not once but twice. I completely overanalyzed that moment for the past year, dreaming that if we ever saw each other, that he would know because I knew I would. It could be twenty years down the road and I would know it was him.

"You see, but the problem is, the problem is that he's gone. He left. And I won't see him again, because instead of trying like he did a year ago, he decided on leading on a girl who was throwing herself at him. That man that I met a year ago is long gone..." I finished in a whisper. Jerking my arm away from him, I rushed to the front door, hoping he didn't see the unshed tears in my eyes. Tears of anger, and rejection, and the fact that I admitted something to myself that I never wanted to admit.

"Leighton, wait!" He called after me. I could feel people's stares on my back, but I didn't stop. The Harry that I met a year ago was dead. In his place was this one.

I went to Nandos, checked the catering, and stomped back-stopping at Prufrock for another white chocolate mocha. Anger bubbled up inside me the closer I got to the set. It grew so fast, so harsh, so red, that I was flushed, and I'm sure steam was blowing out of my ears.

He didn't even remember me.

On the way to Nandos, I was a crying mess, as if he was my boyfriend for years and he out of the blue broke up with me. When I got there, checked my makeup and reassured the catering, I reminded myself that I wasn't his girlfriend. We had met once.

But he didn't even remember me. I mean, I had taken pictures of this romantic scene he had planned. Surely he remembers her never showing up, whoever that woman was. So why couldn't he remember the girl who showed up instead? Why do I have to be the one to remember him, not the other way around? Why couldn't I just forget that whole thing, and pretend it never happened?

_Because,_ my subconscious reasoned, _you wanted this to happen_. Well, not this exactly. I had always remembered that night, because it was then, when I saw him, and saw the look on his face behind the lens, that I knew for sure, in my heart that I wanted to do this the rest of my life. I knew I wanted to take pictures of people with their true emotions, doing real things, acting like human beings. But I also knew that I could meet him one way. Going back to London. Everything - at least to me - seemed to fit together perfectly. I would make London my permanent home, work for Christian Vaun, meet that Boy From the Bridge, and everything would work out. But it was how I would meet him that I didn't know. And I got that answer.

Turns out he wasn't what my mind had conjured up over the course of a year. Sure he grew more handsome, but he was famous and rich. And rich and famous boys were all the same. Just that, _boys_. Nothing in him would change now. He wouldn't be that same person I met last year. Ever again.

I tried forcing my anger down, as I sipped on my mocha and opened the door to the building. Heading over to the set, where Mr. Vaun was shooting of Niall, I was determined to act like none of this phased me. When he glanced over at me, I knew it was okay to talk.

"The catering will be here shortly," I informed him. Niall grinned at me, obviously hearing. I smiled back and went to walk away.

"Check the dogs in the dressing room. We're about ready for them."

"Yes, sir." I nodded, and headed towards the hallway. When I got to the door, I heard little yips and barks. My body relaxed as I grabbed my camera and opened the door. Little gold retriever puppies rushed towards me, pawing at my legs, jumping, and yelping. I laughed and took a few pictures before putting it in my bag and bending down to pet them.

"Your so cute!" I cooed to one as he licked my face.

"I know." A voice caused me to look up to see the other four boys sitting on the couch, staring at me.

"Funny." I scrunched up my nose, and pursed my lips, going back to the puppies. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I was sent to make sure the puppies are okay." I pet another.

"Did you think we'd kill them...?" Zayn raised an eyebrow.

"No. But it's my job." I picked another one up and stood.

"One bit me in the arse." Louis protested.

"I bet it was you." I cooed to the one I was holding. She yipped and licked my face, before nipping at my finger.

"How do you know?" Harry asked.

"She keeps biting my finger." I shrugged, not looking at him. "Your just as cute as a button, aren't you?" I kissed her head before putting her down. Glancing around the room, I saw people milling around the room. Some checking the clothes, other at the mirrors going over make up. I raised an eyebrow at this controlled chaos. It made me glad I was the one behind the lens. A woman came over to Louis and handed him a shirt. He stood and took his off and tried it on. I flushed and ducked my head.

"Prude are we?" Harry teased.

"Someone has to be." I shot back. He just grinned some more, making me angrier. Calming myself down, I took a few photos of this scene.

"Try the button downs." I blurted out.

"Excuse me?" The same woman asked, tucking her short black hair behind her ear-only for it to fall back into place.

"The button-downs." I pointed to them on the racks. "And the sweaters of different colors. They'll look more realistic with the dogs-because no one wants to wear Valentino when puppies are around--and the sweaters will make it easier to roll the shedding off."

"Who are you?" She snapped.

"Oh. Um, Leighton Harrow?" It came out more as a question.

She stopped and gave me a questioning look. "The photographer?" I nodded. "Your mother is Beverly Rivington?"

"One and only." I put on a polite smile. "It's just a suggestion. Never mind. I'm going to go now." I turned, opened the door and escaped before the puppies could. Niall walked past me, eating another bag of crisps. My face was beet red when I walked back.

"Are they done?" Mr. Vaun asked.

"No, sir. They're still getting the boys dressed-"

"Here!" Liam and Zayn ran after me. "The others are still getting dressed."

"Good." Mr. Vaun gave me a stern glare before going back to his camera. I looked at them, and they had the button down shirts with sweaters, Zayn in blue, Liam in orange. They smiled and threw their arms around each other as I took a picture. A couple people emerged from the room with the puppies handing Zayn and Liam theirs. Walking with them towards the set, I took a few more of them.

"These pictures are going to look great!" I beam at them when I was finished looking at the most recent picture-they were making funny faces as the puppies tried to lick them. I watched as Harry made his way on set.

"Pink, huh?" Liam chuckled.

"It's a manly color!" He retorted, smiling.

"What do you think?" Liam asked me.

"Sure. On someone else." I shrugged. Zayn snorted out a laugh. When I looked up, Harry was walking towards me, pouting. I raised an eyebrow.

"She's being mean to me." He stage whispered to the puppy.

"Aw." I fake pouted, petting the dog. Harry's lips formed a slow smile. "It's because he deserved it."

"What did I even do?" He demanded.

"That's my point." I snapped back.

"I shouldn't be punished for something I didn't know I did or did not do!"

"You're not being punished." I retaliated. "See?" I pointed to McKenna. "She's more than willing to be caught out there." I pointed towards the front door. "With you. Me? Not so much. Pretty boys with nice smiles, nice money and a jerk of a personality aren't my type." I turned to walk away, but he grabbed my arm. "You have a real bad habit of this, Styles." I glared at him.

"Let me explain, please."

"I have a job to do." I forced out, my resolve melting. I knew if I didn't leave I'd give in. His green eyes pleaded with me, his bottom lip slightly jutted out. His face was completely sincere. "And so do you. Let me go before you get me in trouble." He did and I moved so I'm safely behind the photographers spot and took some more pictures.

I felt myself relax and get back to focusing on my work as Mr. Vaun instructed them around the scene. Harry took off the pink sweater-Niall had one on, too-leaving him in the button down. Everyone got a kick out of watching the puppies and seeing the squirm. Breaks were taken frequently as to let the puppies down, and get them something to drink. When they're finishing up with Louis, who was last for solo shots, Nandos came in.

"Nandos!" Niall cheered again. Everyone in hearing distance laughed at his child-like excitement.

"Is that Niall Horan?" One of the men carrying the trays asked me, as I directed them to the table.

"Yeah, why?"

"Everyone at Nandos knows him. We sent him extra food."

"Aw! Niall did you hear that?" I turned to him. He ran over.

"Hear what?"

"They brought you extra food."

"Yes! Man, you're the greatest!" Niall hugged the man, and went to the food, helping the workers on set in charge of this take the covering off. He didn't wait for anyone.

"Niall, please come change out of your clothes first!" The same woman from the dressing room came out.

"Fine!" He pouted, leaving, but taking his food with him. I shook my head and went over the soda machine the resided at the end of the hall.

"Ooh, can you get me one?" Harry asked behind me.

"You don't drink fizzy drinks, though." Louis busted him.

"Nice try, pretty boy." I smirked at Harry and walked away.

"Hey!" Louis shouted. "I'm the pretty one!" I laughed at that and got in line. After I got my food, I planned on going up the stairs and eating with my feet hanging off the balcony, but five boys came up to me, grinning.

"We found the stairs to the roof!" Liam grinned, clearly proud.

"What are you going to do? Look for the batman signal?" I raised an eyebrow.

"How does she know?" He exclaimed.

"Know what?"

"Are you sure you're not a Directioner?" Louis cocked his head to the side.

"She isn't." Harry cut in. "She listens to indie. She had no idea who we were until today."

"How do you-" But Louis stopped, then nodded. "Roof!" He pointed and walked away. "This way peasants!" I laughed and followed.

"Hey!" McKenna popped up. "Want to eat together? I know the best spot-where are you going?"

"Roof." I shrugged.

"With the boys?" I nodded. "Can I come?" I nodded again, distain settling in the back of my throat. She cheered and we followed the boys up the back stairs.

"Oh wow." I breathed. There were pots of plants scattered along the floor of the roof. The walling was made of brick, and the view was beautiful. When I set my food on the ground beside McKenna and Zayn, I took a few pictures of the London eye in the distance, of the remarkable buildings and of the boys lounging. Finally, after yelling at Niall to stay away from my food, I settled down and began eating.

"How many pictures do you have?" Liam asked.

"Probably close to a thousand." I grinned, nearly petting my camera.

"Wow. Will we be able to see them?"

"I'll see if I can get Mr. Vaun to give you the links." I nodded.

"Or..." Harry grinned. "You can always give me your number and I can see them in person."

"Oh." I let out a sarcastic laugh. "You're cute." McKenna shot me a look. I shrugged. Louis shot up and wandered away, his plate already empty.

"Blimey." Niall shook his head. "He finished before me..."

"He's calling Eleanor." Harry shrugged. "I'd want to talk to my bird as much as possible."

"That's so sweet." McKenna grinned at him. He smiled back.

"Boo bear!" The boys shouted at once. McKenna let out a giggle, and I full out laughed. "Tell her we say hi!" Louis nodded, and resumed his phone call. I smiled at that, then felt myself frown thinking about how cute it was, and how perfect it seemed. They do the same thing to Zayn and Liam as they get up to make their phone calls.

"Okay, so who are they dating?" I asked, nibbling on a carrot.

McKenna sighed, clearly irritated. "No worries love," Harry smiled reassuringly at her. "We'll get her hooked."

"Careful, Harry. You might get in trouble for trying to reign in two girls at once." I raised an eyebrow.

"So," Niall cut in. "Liam is dating Danielle. She was a background dancer on the X-Factor our year. That's how they met. Louis is going with Eleanor, as you know. He met her through Harry. And Zayn is currently with Little Mix member, Perrie, whom he met backstage at X-Factor."

"That's so cute!" I grinned. "Why don't you two have girlfriends?"

"Leighton!" McKenna chided. I shot her a look.

"I'd rather sleep. Or eat. Or both." Niall shrugged.

I looked over at Harry. "I haven't met the right one yet. "He shrugged, his green eyes meeting my blue ones. I flushed, and go back to my food. Soon, I throw my food away, and start more pictures of the scenery. One by one they get off the phone-the girls had to study or had rehearsal-and I settle back down with them. McKenna was awfully close to Harry, and I felt my blood begin to boil.

_He's. Not. Your's_. My inner voice snapped. I kept telling myself that and eventually I was able to calm down.

"Boys!" A voice called. We all turned to see one of the directing assistance walk up. "Oh! There you are! We're ready for the final shoot." We gather up our things and head back downstairs. McKenna is whisked off with the boys to the dressing room, and I'm sent over to Mr.Vaun.

"Yes, sir?" I asked, my voice wavering.

"Elizabeth told me what you did." He snapped.

"What did I do?" My eyes widened.

"You told her what to put the boys in? You are the intern here! You do not work as her fashion assistant, nor do you get to tell people what to do!" He bellowed. I cringed away, my face heating up with embarrassment. "With that said." He brought his voice down. "Good observation. It was easier to clean off the dog hair. And good job with keeping One Direction close. We may need them again." He nodded and stalked away.

"A positive note." A man with a smart look and fierce attitude nodded. "Good job on day one." He winked at me and walked away. I grinned and mentally patted myself on the back.

After everything was squared away, and the shoot was finally over everyone grouped together on the set.

"What's this?" I asked McKenna.

"Oh. Every time we finish a shoot, we take a group shot. It's really cute, because they usually end up in the magazines." I nodded, remembering the pictures I saw in the magazines I had bought.

"Sounds fun." I beamed, and she nodded, taking me hand, leading me onto the scene. I felt someone grab my other hand, and pull me towards them. I look up and see Harry's green eyes. I glared up at him.

"Plenty of room here for you both, love." He winked at McKenna. She giggled.

"Careful, pretty boy," I rolled my eyes. "You may start regretting leading girls on." McKenna shot me a look, then Harry a reassuring one.

"Don't worry Harry. I understand everything." Gag.

"Hey!" Louis shouted from the other end of the group. "I told you Leighton Harrow of the Rivingtons," He mocked me, "I'm the pretty one!" He finished in a full out smile.

I laughed. "Oh forgive me, Boo bear." The boys laughed and we all turned to the camera.

"Leighton!" Mr. Vaun shouted at me, when I finished helping the lighting crew tie up the wiring.

"Yes, sir?" I asked.

"Be here at six tomorrow morning. I have a breakfast meeting at 8, and I need to go over the notes with you." He turned and walked away.

"Notes? Breakfast meeting?" The same man from earlier walked over. He wore pale pink suspenders, and white pants and shirt, with a light pink newsboy hat. "Sounds an awful lot like an assistant to me."

"Really?" I squealed bouncing up and down.

"Seems so. Whatever you're doing kid, it's working."

"Thanks." I beamed up at him.

"C'mon chap, I'm sure you're zonked." He slung his arm over my shoulder and led me to the front door.

"Leighton!" I heard five boys shout.

"Never mind that. I'll see you tomorrow." He chuckled and left. I turned around and smiled at the boys.

"Yeah?"

"You weren't going to say goodbye?" Niall's face fell.

"Oh." I frowned hugging him. "I thought you guys left already!" He picked me up and whirled me around. I laughed.

"Thank you for the amazing snacks you gave me." He nodded, setting me down.

"Your very welcome, Niall dear." I giggled. I got a hug from the others, too, before the squashed me in the middle of a group hug.

"Can't... Breathe!" I managed to get out, before they stepped back.

"Sorry." Zayn apologized.

"It was nice meeting you." Louis looked over at Harry.

I raised an eyebrow. "Nice meeting you guys, too."

"The car is here, boys." A man walked up. He was extremely tall, and extremely built.

"This is Paul." Louis grinned, seeing my expression.

"Hi." I smiled politely at him.

"Hello." He replied.

"We'll be there in a moment." The boys said goodbye once more, before heading out.

"... Talk to her! Pansy!" Louis shouted out of nowhere as the front door opened, and Harry was being shoved in.

"McKenna's still in the dressing room." I said, ducking my head, reaching for the door.

"No." He reached for my hand before retracting. "I want to talk to you."

I sighed, and stared up at him. "Harry. I can't. I just can't. I met you once last year. I met you again this year. This is it. I'm sure we'll meet again in the future, but for now-"

"Please." He cut in. "One date. Just one, and I'll never bother you again."

"You didn't even remember who I was." I whispered, feeling the traitors that are tears. I tried my best to blink them back, but some escaped. He pulled away from the glass door and into a small alcove.

"Don't cry." He wiped away the tears. "I'm sorry. It's just-what are the odds of meeting you again? I never thought in my wildest dreams I'd see you again-"

"Neither did I, but I still managed to know you from just a glance." I glared, my tears leaving the angrier I got.

"I'm sorry." He said lamely.

I watched him for a moment, his eyes serious, his bottom lip slightly jutted out. His genuine face. He had this face that night...

"So am I." I whispered walking away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I'm shit at updating. Thank you to everyone who is reading this, I genuinely hope you're enjoying this story so far. Please keep in mind that this is set way way wayyy back I'm 1428% sure I will make errors. If I do, just let me know and I'll try to fix it as best I can - some things will be different for the sake of the story though.   
> Again, I'm super shit at updating anything I write. I'm a college student with a double major and double minor and i work and play lacrosse. I will always try my best to keep this updated more regularly.   
> So much love,   
> \- Rikkibabyy xx


	5. Lilacs and Vanilla

Even the next morning, my mind - and heart - wouldn’t let me forget that I had shut down Harry not once, but twice in one day.  
Harry freaking Styles.  
The boy who was constantly in my dreams, the boy I had molded into my perfect guy.  
A guy who I made as a completely crazy and funny and cheeky and genuine and everything good. He always meant well, but couldn’t help but be slightly protective over things he loved, he was a great best friend and if had siblings he was the best brother anyone could have. He was charming and real and authentic-  
And you’ll never know if it’s true. My inner voice cut in. Just get up, go to work, and go through the day. You’ll get past it, just like last time. I nodded at my small, but somehow effective pep talk. I glanced at my wall of pictures, my tired eyes landing on the bridge automatically, before pulling the green duvet off, and treading into the bathroom. I rubbed my eyes and went into the closet through the door that joined the two rooms while the shower warmed up. I found a black shirt with ruffles along the front, black slacks, and red heels before I hopped into the shower.  
I had managed to get home at around nine last night, after going to the store and grabbing food. I grabbed supper, too and headed home. I put everything away, ate, and crashed on the couch around ten, waking up around 1 to upstairs and sleep - only to be up at four thirty to get ready for my second day of work.

“On time today. Good.” Mr. Vaun met me at the door. I flushed and nodded, sipping on my mocha. I was 10 minutes early.  
“Good morning, sir. Here you go.” I handed him one. He took it and headed straight for the stairs. Already people were milling around. I saw Elizabeth walking through the dressing room, and the men that worked on lighting, setting up again. I scurried after him, following him up the stairs and onto the landing.  
“Is there another shoot today?”  
“Yes. Then were going on location by the river. Now, about the meeting…” He sorted everything out about how this meeting was purely the financial aspect. I was to take notes on the budget and cost and effects and deductibles and incomes and blah blah blah…. To be honest I was only thrilled at the fact that I had moved up only on my first day.  
“Good morning, Mr. Vaun-oh.” McKenna’s cheery voice turned quickly sour, seeing me in the room. We had settled in one of the three meeting rooms. The room was all glass, seeing into the two offices next to it, with black tables, light grey chairs and varying shades of grey from white to black all along the room.  
“Leighton Harrow, it’s so good to see you. So soon. And so early.” She plastered on a smile though I saw right through it.  
“Just Leighton, please. No need to use my last name.” I gave an uneasy smile back.  
“Of course. Mr. Vaun?”  
“Oh, yes. I told her to take notes during the meeting. You’ll show her the ropes.” He didn’t ask her, rather told her what she was to be doing. “Oh, and both of you go down to the bakery to get breakfast. The meeting starts in a half hour.”  
“Right away sir.” McKenna nodded before walking straight out of the room. I sighed, grabbed my bag and ran after her. What happened to her? I couldn’t help but think. She was just fine yesterday. Yeah, to the new girl. What if her attitude is really like this?  
“Fringe doesn’t go very well with Valentino.” She snapped. Oh dear…  
“What?” I furrowed my eyebrows. The air of May hit me as we stepped outside. I took a deep breath and gave a small smile.  
“Fringe,” She repeated. “Your bag. It doesn’t go with your outfit.”  
“I don’t really care.” I looked over her outfit. Smart glasses, pin straight hair pulled into a high ponytail. Expensive looking black pants, ankle boots with encrusted jewels on the back, and a Dolce and Gabbana shirt.  
She halted before turning to me. “Sweetie, this world you're working in cares. Everything you wear and do and say reflects the industry. And right now, it’s high fashion. You can’t be wearing something from a thrift store when it needs to be from Barneys.”  
“Excuse me.” I snapped. “Nothing I wear is cheap. Let’s just get the damn food so I can get back to work. My choice of bag does not affect you!” I stomped past her until I reached the closest bakery. She glided in with confidence that I had just faked a few moments before. My mind immediately went back to Beverly And New York. All the times I shopped on Fifth Avenue, going into Saks and Bloomingdales. I cringed thinking of the people I went with, nearly stealing anything we could get our hands on. No, you are not that person. My inner voice chided, Focus on this. Focus on London.  
“Hello, Andrew.” McKenna beamed at the man behind the counter. “The usual please.”  
“Right away.” He winked at her before getting it ready.  
She turned to me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just want to help you. You will be scrutinized, and I don’t want that to happen to you. I can tell you’re a great person. I don’t want you to get hurt.”  
Too late. I thought. “Thanks,” I spoke out loud. “I appreciate the concern, but I can handle this. I know it.”  
“Good.” She smiled brightly, and I began to relax. After we grabbed the boxes of food - which were just various types of bread with spreads and expensive tea brands (very posh)-we headed back to the studio. We set up the arrangements on the breakfast bar in the back, and soon the meeting followed. Christian Vaun was nowhere to be found, and when I whispered that to McKenna, she just shrugged and said he never is, that’s why we’re taking notes.  
The thought struck me. Did he trust me enough to take notes for him? Only on my second day? Granted, notes aren’t that big of a deal, that’s why there are two of us and a whole staff dedicated to this. But I played with the idea that maybe he really did see something in me, that maybe I had serious potential.  
I was grinning like a fool by the time the meeting was being disbanded. Mr. Vaun stormed in, making everyone who was about to rise out of their seats quickly sit back down.  
“Is this normal?” I whispered to McKenna who paled slightly. She just shook her head.  
“Is everything alright Mr. Vaun?” His head assistant, Ivy followed quickly behind him.  
“Yes, of course.” He scanned the room. “How was the meeting?” His eyes zeroed in on McKenna and me.  
“Well,” She started, smiling brightly. Boy, she was always happy. “We managed to go over the overall expenses of lighting, wardrobe, incomes, and all of that for the Neon shoot. The total company income of the last magazines you were published in-” Her words caused a sort of anger to shoot through me. Not anger, annoyance. She was brushing over the topics, not letting him know anything that was going on.  
I cut in. “With the expenses cut from the total of company income, we were well into the millions, and with the deductibles and overall expenses, that Miss Ambridge explained. There’s the cost of using a new name - not the mention the risk that also adds to the couple millions that the company made. However, with the shoot from One Direction, Victoria Secret, and Rihanna for Cosmo, you made up the difference and we had enough money to add to the wardrobe to add more neon for the Neon shoot along with accessories.”  
Everyone gave me a long stare before turning to Mr. Vaun. “Excuse me?”  
“It’s in the math.” I slid my notebook over to the head of the table. “It’s how it comes out. They discussed where the money would go. Since you already used the extra from the last shoots on lighting and updating the technology-smart move by the way - they agreed that neon needed to be in your face. You know, neon…”  
“She’s right sir. The money came out the same way it has for me.” The head of the financial department, Travis Harkins said, his voice astounded. “It’s all right here.”  
Mr. Vaun whinged slightly, glaring at the screen which held a pretty diagram for the visuals. Then he turned to me. “Your pictures from yesterday. Where are they?”  
“Right here.” I stood, opening my fringe bag, ignoring the wide-eyed stares from the group of people. I took out my camera, then my SIM cards, neatly put away and divided. I pulled out the two most recent, having already dividing the pictures last night. “The blue one is of One Direction. I took with them throughout the day. The black one is of the studio and everyone working.”  
“Do you qualify taking pictures as working!?” He bellowed.  
Anger flashed through me as I grew defensive. “That is my job. That’s what my intern is for, sir. Pictures. I’m a photographer. You told me to stay out of the way and make myself useful. I did. Real pictures are just as interesting as ones made on set.”  
Tension sparked through the room as the group from the meeting didn’t know whether to stay or book it. I glared at Mr. Vaun, who in return, was glaring at me.  
“Real pictures. Like mine are not real!” He shouted. “Delete them. Delete them all!”  
“No!” I reached for them - but he’d already snatched them. “Don’t delete them! I worked hard on them! Stop!” I screamed. He just marched over to the computer and put one in.  
It was the one of the boys. The first one to pop up was Harry. He was staring at the camera with an intensity that made me freeze along with my heart. In fact, the whole room seemed frozen as we all stared at the screen. The next one came on, it was Louis-I know now, that he was the one Harry had nudged - and Harry, heads leaned in whispering, a smirk on Harry’s face. It was just before Louis looked up and nodded. That picture showed up.  
Mr. Vaun went through the pictures, one by one, seeing them, of Liam, winking, of the boys laughing, of them all sitting on the floor, eating on the roof, the puppies. Everything. Eventually, the picture reached Harry again, just like the first picture, only in black in white.  
“I thought that maybe, some would look good in black and white, and switched them over,” I whispered. “I didn’t know which ones you would have liked, so I just did all of them.” The room was filled with a heavy silence. I heard every shallow breathing, every small noise of fabric rustling as everyone fought to stay still. Sweat dripped onto my brow as I stared at Mr. Vaun. A vein was showing on his neck, his face red, glaring at the pictures that he saw on the computer screen on the side of the room, that was linked to the screen we were all looking at.  
“Please, Mr. Vaun. Don’t delete them. I worked really really hard-”  
“Phone call.” A lady knocked on the door, poking her head in. Mr. Vaun took a long stride towards the door. “For Miss Harrow.” I cringed at those words. He stumbled to a stop, turned, and threw me daggers. I cringed again under his cold gaze.  
“Get the bloody phone.” His voice was unnaturally calm and cool. Everyone shared uneasy glances with each other, and I knew this was going to end badly. I gathered my things, knowing fully well that I won’t be back. Solemnly I went into the hall and to the receptionist’s desk placed off the side, out of view of the office.  
I knew my voice would be close to tears if I answered, so I gave a cough and stood up straighter. You’ll be fine. You’re not going to give up this easily. I nodded and took the phone.  
“Hello?” I asked.  
“Hello!” An all too familiar voice cheered. A voice I hadn’t planned on hearing from ever again.  
“Harry!” I exclaimed. The receptionist raised an eyebrow. “What the bloody hell are you doing calling me at work.”  
“Well, I’m calling from work-” He mocked “-too. I had to call you.”  
“Why?”  
“To see if I got you in trouble yet.” I heard a smirk in his voice as he talked.  
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you-”  
“Leighton Harrow!” Mr. Vaun shouted. I froze, turning pale no doubt. But I didn’t know, as of the fact I was turning numb, terrified as to was to come.  
“Yes, sir?” I asked meekly.  
“What is this?” He stormed over, pointing behind him. Flowers. The man carrying them set them down beside me. I flushed, opening my mouth the answer - when another man followed suit. And another. And another. A long line of men in matching uniforms set down massive bouquets of roses at my feet.  
“What did you do?” I hissed into the phone.  
“I bought you flowers, love! Girls love that stuff.” I heard a soft chuckling in the background.  
“I’m sorry, sir,” I told Mr. Vaun. “It was an accident. I’ll tell them to never do it again.”  
“You better!” He boomed storming back into the room.  
“You got me in trouble!” I whined into the phone.  
“Sorry,” He chuckled.  
“Sorry? You're sorry! How about not sending me dozens of flowers!?” I shouted.  
“Nope.” He laughed. “Dozens of flowers are too mainstream, as you say. There're 38 bouquets of 13 roses. For every day I didn’t see you.” Wow, how lucky.  
“You mean every day you didn’t remember.” I hissed. He sighed. “Besides, why is it 364? It’s been a year.”  
“I have the last one! You have to come get it.”  
“No!” I protested. “Harry Styles, no. This is never going to happen. Why don’t you just forget about me like you did last time?” I slammed the phone back onto the carrier and stormed back to the meeting room to receive my SIM cards. However, when I walked in, I saw the images being transferred.  
“Mr. Vaun?” I asked, unsure as to what was going on.  
“Miss Harrow.” He huffed. “I can’t let these pictures go to waste. Pull another tantrum and you're fired. And get rid of those silly little tulips-”  
“Their roses, sir.” I corrected, collecting the SIM cards back. “And they’re from Harry Styles.”  
“Who?”  
“Of One Direction!” McKenna cheered. “Who are they for?”  
I opened my mouth to say me, but saw the excited look on her face, just hoping… “The company. It was as a thank you for an amazing day yesterday. One of them is yours specifically.” I stepped aside as she ran out of the room, positively glowing. Jealousy raged through me, but I quickly pushed it away. No way was I going to get jealous over her and Harry again.  
You’re getting jealous over your own lie. My subconscious nearly sighed in exasperation. You made up the idea of him sending her flowers.  
You’re right. I did. It was made up. And I had told him I didn’t want to ever see him again. So why was I getting so frustrated?

“I just adore black and white photoshoots!” McKenna nearly giggled as we stood on the sidelines of the shoot later that afternoon. After everything got squared away, we set the potted roses all over the black and white studio like building, giving it much needed color. I was following McKenna around today, learning the ropes and getting the dirt on this place.  
Turns out all she talks about is Harry freaking Styles.  
“I think it looks awfully boring!” I matched her high pitched tone. She stopped mid-clap and stared at me.  
“Do you have no respect for high fashion.”  
“High fashion is not all black and white!” I protested. As people walked past us, they snuck glances, curious as ever as to what Leighton Harrow was causing a scene about now.  
“Good ones are.” She huffed, crossing her arms.  
“No, the normal ones are. This is normal. Why does he insist on being like everyone else?”  
“Because everyone follows him. Not the other way around.” Her eyes looked desperate, trying to get me to understand.  
“Miss Harrow!” Mr. Vaun shouted. My feet moved before I could think, and I was standing next to him. The model was in black and white - surprise. Black jacket, white shirt, white pants, and black shoes. The idea of everything black and white seemed to bother me more and more.  
“Yes, Mr. Vaun?”  
“Go get more tea. Quickly now!”  
“Right away, sir.” I turned, getting my camera out of my bag, and headed out the front door, thankful for a break. I took pictures of the clearing sky-it rained earlier this afternoon - the sun peaking through, illuminating the puddles that rested in crevices and danced along the cars on the sides of the roads. People inside cafés and shops, cuddled together, laughing. A man at the bookstore, staring intently at the back of the book. A little kid staring up at the sky. When I looked up, I saw a balloon falling up, slowly slowly drifting. I took a picture of that, too.  
As I thought of all the color I was seeing, I kept wondering why he couldn’t just add some into the shot. Having her wear black and white, surrounded by color, just one solid color. Something simple to not overdo it, something to keep it elegant.  
The idea struck me, so quick and strong that I was frozen in place for a moment. It was a moment too long as I stuffed my camera back into my bag and dashed to Prufrock. I asked for the Christian Vaun usual when I arrived and he quickly got to work. It wasn’t long before I got the orders and I set off on a brisk walk back to the Vaun studios, even ignoring the high-pitched squeals and giggles of something no doubt exciting behind me.  
In no time, I was back, thrilled with my idea. Once I stepped inside I was bombarded with people as they took their usual drinks. I was left with three. I handed McKenna hers, and she smiled brightly before taking a sip.  
“Mr. Vaun, I have a wonderful idea.” I beamed, handing him his coffee.  
“Not interested.” He took it, took a sip, and set it on the ground, focusing on his camera.  
“But it’s a brilliant idea.”  
“I don’t care. You are an intern. You are here to observe, to study, and to learn. Nowhere on the application did it state that you would get the ability to tell me what to do.”  
“But-”  
“Do you understand!?” He whirled around, shouting. “I am busy. I don’t have time to deal with your immaturities! Either you go back to your spot and study, or you leave!” He pointed a stubby finger towards the front door. “Pick, and do it! I don’t care!”  
I flushed a deep red, knowing everyone was staring at me. I ducked my head and headed back to my spot. McKenna gave a small smile, before putting an arm around me. The gesture made me uncomfortable, but I didn’t move or say anything.  
“I should have warned you. But I thought after yesterday…-”  
“Same here,” I mumbled.  
“Don’t look so embarrassed. Everyone here has tried getting his attention. He’s just stressed because he wants his magazines to be perfect.”  
“They already are.” I sighed. “I mean, whatever he does is fantastic. Who is this one for?”  
“It’s Vogue.” She shrugged. “No biggie.”  
I snorted.  
“What was your brilliant idea?”  
“I was just thinking about the roses. And that we could set them around the shoot. The red in the background will make her stand out more.”  
“You want color.” She giggled. “Interns never get color. I’ve tried.”  
“He always does black and white?” I sighed.  
“Usually. Even the One Direction shoot, he’ll use most as black and white. Those were amazing by the way. The one with me in them, can you print those…” She went off, talking and jabbering about this and that, talking nonsense and celebrity news that I didn’t care to know about nor hear.  
“Hey.” I cut her off, not bothering to figure out what she was waffling about now. “Can you do me a favor?”  
“Sure.” She grinned. “What do you need?”  
“He has a lunch meeting right?”  
“Yeah…” She trailed off.  
“And the model will still be here…?” I raised my eyebrows, a Cheshire grin forming on my lips.  
“Yeah-No! No way! Not going to happen!” She shook her head violently.  
“Please! Oh please. Just help me get the roses. Please?” I pouted, nearly jumping up and down. “It’s a really good, simple idea. I’ll take the blame for it.”  
She stared at me for a long moment, taking a sip of her tea. Finally, finally, she sighed. “Fine. I’ll help. But if you get in trouble-” She shook her head. “We both get in trouble. I’m not letting you be bad all by yourself!” She giggled. I did a mini cheer and dance, before composing myself and going back to the shoot.  
“So…” She nudged me. “What did Harry say?” I just rolled my eyes.  
When they called a break for the shoot, I waiting until I heard the door slam of one of the offices before scrambling around to gather the vases of flowers. McKenna raced to the dressing room to get the model ready. I had all the flowers by the set and ready to go when the model walked up.  
“Who are you?” She asked bluntly, her dark eyes cutting me like daggers.  
“An intern.” I shrugged and held up my camera. “Models don’t eat lunch anyways. Let’s go.”  
She watched me for a moment, before slowly shaking her head. “You got a lot bottled up.”  
I beamed. “Thank you. Now; I’m going to need you to lay down.” I took in her black suit outfit and waited as she did as she was told. I started immediately placing flowers around her.  
“Is this going to work?”  
“Do you doubt every photographer you meet?” I retorted. When I found a small ladder-the tech guys used one to set up the shoot this morning -I stepped up, stared down through the lens, and started snapping pictures.  
“Do you want to hook the camera up to the monitor?” McKenna asked.  
I snorted. “No way. I’m already going to be in trouble enough. I’m not going to take up his space.” Continuing to instruct the model, I grew more and more comfortable telling her how to move, and what poses to make. The roses fit right in, as I didn’t have to show any of the white backdrop. The black stood out against the vibrant red roses. When I was finished, I stepped down, McKenna immediately crowding me. Others stood off to the side, anxious for when Mr. Vaun was going to come down and fire me.  
“These are amazing!” She beamed. “Absolutely brilliant.”  
“Can I see?” the model asked.  
“Of course.” I showed her, watching her instead of the pictures, pride swelling in me as her eyes widened and a small smile formed on her lips.  
“These are good. Great. You're pretty great for just an intern.”  
“She’s no longer an intern!” Mr. Vaun boomed. Cringing, I slowly turned around watching the short, chubby French man charge me.  
“I bet you're real chuffed, aren’t you?” He snapped, snatching my camera.  
“I’m pleased yes.” I retorted. “These came out great!”  
“No, they most certainly did not.” He stomped over to the monitor and plugged in my camera. “This one has red eye. This one’s blurry. This one you see the white. This one you see the vases. This one is proportionally wrong. Wrong angle. Wrong stance-Wrong, Wrong, WRONG!” He nearly screamed, his hands flailing.  
“What about this one?” the model had followed up, along with many other people, to see my pictures. It’s to see what happens next. It’s not always about you… My subconscious grumbled. I ignored it.  
“Which one-” He stopped and zoomed in on it. There was no white backdrop, no vases in view-all you saw were the tops of the flowers. She was positioned perfectly in the frame, her legs bent to the side, an arm resting at her side, the other resting on her hair that was splayed out in contrast with the flowers. Her eyes were dark and dangerous, completely flirting with the camera.  
“It’s perfect.” I cheered.  
“One picture out of 76 is not perfect. You got lucky Miss Harrow. I told you this morning that if you mess up, you would be fired. Now go to my business and marketing meetings this afternoon. Maybe you won’t cause a stir up there.”  
“I’m not fired?” I blinked, shocked, taking my camera back.  
“Not at this moment. Leave before I change me mind. Go!” He turned his back to me, directing his attention to the other members waiting around. “Tear down - we’re going on location!”  
“What?!” I ran up to his side as he walked away. “Why can’t I go?”  
“Because you deliberately disobeyed me, Miss Harrow,” He said as if talking about the weather. “You are to stay here. If you do anything other than taking notes at these two meetings, you are fired. I mean it this time. Understood?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“McKenna!” Mr. Vaun shouted. She glided over, winking at me. I grinned back. “Let’s go. We have much to do on location.”  
“Right away sir.” She gave me a thumbs up, following him out the front door. Jealously flashed through me as I grumbled my way up the stairs and into the hell known as meetings.

Not even a week later, I was unofficially an assistant. I followed Mr. Vaun just about everywhere, sending messages to whoever, getting his tea or coffee, depending on his anger level - usually due to me - sending emails, going to meetings. I didn’t realize it was Saturday until McKenna came over, all bright-eyed and grinning.  
“Hi…?” I trailed off, snapping a picture of her.  
“Morning!” She beamed.  
“What’s put you in a good mood? You know, overly chuffed up.”  
She just laughed at my jab. “It’s Saturday. We all usually go out since we have tomorrow off.”  
“It’s Saturday?” I exclaimed pulling out my phone. Sure enough, it said Saturday, May 26.  
“What’s wrong with Saturdays?” She flipped her perfectly curled blond hair over her shoulder, her perfect blue eyes curious. A stab of envy went through me as I took in her pencil skirt and bright ruffled blouse. I couldn’t help but think about how Harry looked at her on Tuesday-  
NO. You lasted this long without thinking about him. You will not pout now.  
That was a lie. I had actually thought about him a lot this week. It was hard not to when he kept sending me things. On Wednesday, it was the roses - which beautifully decorate the black and white studio. Thursday was the cupcakes and brownies that were sent from a small bakery for everyone. On Friday, it was a Cartier necklace - and evidently really expensive, too. And today, apparently today was candles.  
“Leighton!” Erin, another assistant here shouted from the front door.  
“Yeah?” I excused myself from perfect McKenna and raced towards him. “What can I help you with?”  
“You have another gift.” He rolled his eyes. “What did you do to them?”  
“Nothing. I’m sure my bad attitude and lack of knowledge of 21 century would have turned them away.”  
“Clearly.” He smirked and walked away.  
“Miss. Harrow?” The delivery man asked today.  
“Yep.” I nodded. Though, I don’t know why he was asking, he was the same guy who’d delivered the gifts all week.  
“Here you go. 52 candles.”  
“Candles?” I raised an eyebrow. “What the bloody hell am I going to do with candles…” I grabbed the box from him and turned towards the stairs. McKenna followed me, asking me if there was anything else, if he’d sent a note or a letter, or a declaration of his love for her - gag me.  
“No. It’s just candles. I don’t know why-” My voice caught in my throat when I opened the box and the smell wafted up to my nose.  
“Well? You don’t know why what?”  
“Um…” I shook my head, grabbing the candles. “These are lilacs.”  
“So?”  
“And these are vanilla….” I held up another glass candle holder. The box was perfectly divided into thirteen pale pink lilac candles, and thirteen cream colored vanilla candles.  
“So? I want to know!” She pleaded, gripping my arm, jumping up and down in her studded ankle boots-how many does this girl have?  
“I don’t know.” I put them in the box and turned sharply towards the stairs. “Nor do I care. Not in the least bit.”  
“Not even in the least bit?” She raised an innocent eyebrow.  
“Nope.” I popped the ‘p’ and continued down the stairs to where Mr. Vaun was waiting.  
“You two match today,” He said not even looking up.  
“Mr. Vaun?” I questioned. I was wearing a black vintage inspired dress with a knee length skirt, a square neckline, thick straps and an empire waist, with pale pink heeled Mary Janes. It wasn’t anything like McKenna’s fashion forward outfit.  
“Like twins…” He finally looked up, looking between the two of us. “It’s in the face. And how you talk sometimes.”  
“Sir?” I asked again. “Are you okay?”  
He sighed. “Your faces look alike. Like twins. Is that simple enough, love?”  
“I didn’t think he noticed us.” I stage whispered to McKenna.  
“Does he even know our names?” She played along.  
“Enough.” He snapped, but I saw a small smirk form on the side of his lip. “Teas and coffee. Off you two go.”  
“Whose coming in today?”  
“Today is interviews and fittings.”  
“Oh!” McKenna squealed. “This should be good.” She took my hand and dragged me out the door to Prufrock.  
“Are the candles from Harry?” She asked once we ordered the usual. The barista behind the counter head snapped up and stared at us.  
I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Everything I’ve gotten this week is from Harry.”  
“Even the roses?”  
I nodded.  
“So they weren’t for the studio?”  
“Why?”  
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just thought... That maybe he liked me, or something. I guess not.”  
“He probably has us confused.” I rolled my eyes. “I mean; we do look alike.” I pointed towards the front window, where you could see our reflection. We did look alike.  
Like twins.  
“But our names aren’t even alike. And I’d be deeply insulted if he didn’t remember mine.” She pouted.  
“He not even worth it. Trust me.” I grabbed the drinks and we head back to the studio. We were stuck in a whirlwind as soon as we walked in. I was sent on wild goose chases all day, sending and getting for this and that. Notes and emails and messages and signatures and interview background knowledge. Scissors and tape measures because the other ones broke. Drinks and snacks and making sure the measurements were correct on the models. Inventory was the worst to top it all off. I was more than thrilled when the day was over, and everyone began gathering their things.  
I was in a meeting when everyone called it quits for the day. The sound of rustling paper and fabric of people standing and putting on their coats. Notebooks were slammed closed and the door swung open as everyone rushed out.  
“My brain is fried!” I cried out to McKenna when I saw her waiting by Ivy’s desk for me.  
She laughed. “What did you do?”  
“Notes. Notes. More notes. Errands. Did I mention notes?”  
She laughed again. “I got to follow models around all day and secretly be pleased that I’m not as thin as them.”  
“That sounds a lot easier. Though, I don’t think I would be pleased.” She just shrugged and helped me grab the candles.  
“Why can’t he just send them to your place?” She asked.  
“Because he doesn’t know where I live.”  
“Oh.”  
“It would be so much better if he didn’t send me anything at all!”  
“You don’t like this admirer stuff?” She asked. “It’s sounds awfully romantic.”  
I sighed. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Just thinking of him makes me brassed off.”  
“Brassed off…” She trailed off, giving me an odd look. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? It seems an awfully long way with these.”  
“No. no, I’m fine. I’m going to walk home. It’s only a couple blocks.”  
“Okay.” She gave me air kisses - which is something I’m still not used to - and trotted off with a couple of coworkers while I headed in the opposite direction. As I walked, I couldn’t help but think about what I had to eat at home. Which of course, was nothing. All week I had stopped off at a deli for a sandwich to take home after work - if it was open, as of the fact that Christian liked to work way past closing times for these shops. I also used my last of my tea this morning as I got ready for work.  
Looking around, I hoped that I could see Big Ben. I could. It was only around ten thirty. With longer strides and more purpose, I headed towards Prufrock, hoping for a pastry and tea before I went home. Thanks to my rarity in luck, the shop was still open. Not taking any notice that it was empty, thinking that it was because it was late, I opened the door and walked inside. I set the boxes on the nearest table and headed towards the counter. The barista, whom I realized was here this morning, grinned widely at me. I smiled back politely.  
“Usual?” She asked, her voice unusually perky.  
“Um, yeah. Thanks.” But she didn’t seem to hear me as she kept glancing behind me, her smiling growing larger. I furrowed my eyebrows and turned around.  
There he was, standing, leaning against the opposite wall, hair a complete curly mess, green eyes sparkling with something mischievous, a grin set on his perfect lips, one hand shoved into his jean pocket, the other holding a single rose.  
“It’s been waiting for you all week, love,” He said, his voice like dark chocolate and honey. My heart stopped and I was completely frozen staring at him. He continued to grin.  
“Harry.” I finally whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in 24 hours (I think?) Thanks guys for reading, I hope you enjoy. We're getting into Harry's and Leighton's attempt at whatever relationship she thinks she wants to maybe try with him. (Let's be honest, she doesn't even really know anything)  
> Feel free to comment, kudos, tell others about this. I hope you all enjoy this continuing journey through this mess Leighton will surely create.  
> \- Rikkibabyy xx


	6. Cinnamon Tea

“Leighton.” He chuckled. “Your rose, love.” My body seemed frozen under his gaze. All I could do was stand there dumbly under his penetrating gaze.

                _You will not let him control you like this._ My inner voice snapped. I agreed. Standing up straighter, I walked over to him and grabbed it, setting it on the boxes. Politely, I turned back to the barista. “My usual, please. I’m in a hurry.”

                “Sure.” She quickly nodded, her gaze flickering back to Harry.

                “What are you doing?” I demanded.

                “Well, as you can see,” He held out his arms, indicating to the empty coffee shop. “I rented out the place.”

                “You did _what_?!” I demanded.

                “Rented it out for the evening. I wanted to talk to you. In private. But you see, I didn’t have your number or your address, so I couldn’t get a hold of you any other way.”

                “Are you stalking me?”

                “Stalking you?” He raised an eyebrow. “That would be a no. Why would I stalk you? Isn’t it the other way around? You found me, remember.”

                “I’m trying to forget.” I retorted. “Which you're making very difficult to do.”

                “Am I?” He grinned, triumphant.

                “You keep showing up! You keep sending things to me at work! I almost got fired on Wednesday because of you!”

                His eyes widened. “I didn’t mean for that to happen! I swear it.”

                “Well it did, Styles.” I snapped. “Will you ever stop sending me stuff?”

                “When you agree to be friends with me.”

                “Agree to be-” I sighed. “Maybe your dense boy band brain won’t let you comprehend this, but you actually have to _like_ the person to be their friend.”

                “Well, I like you.”

                “But I hate you.”

                “You don’t hate me.”

                “Why do you say that?”

                “Because your order has been done for the past couple minutes, and you're still here talking to me.”

                I glared at him for a long while before turning and getting my tea.

                “Don’t leave!” He shot forward in front of the door.

                “I wasn’t…” I trailed off, raising a condescending eyebrow. Sinking down at the table next to my candles, I took a sip of my tea. The hot liquid warmed my chest, moving like waves throughout my body. I should have left. I should get up and walk away. 

                “Oh. Well, then, ace! This is a brilliant start.” He sat down across from me.

                “Yeah.” I rolled my eyes. “Real good start.” We sat there for a while, not saying anything. I could feel his gaze on mine as I sipped my tea and fiddled with my rings.

                “You haven’t looked up at me once.” He pointed out.

                “Because I don’t want to.”

                “Why not?”

                “Because you nauseate me.”

                “That’s not good. We need to fix that. What’s your usual?”

                “My what?”

                “Usual. The drink. She asked if you wanted your usual when you walked in.”

                “It’s cinnamon tea.”

                “You must really like cinnamon.”

                “What do you mean?”

                “Well, the other day, when you were getting teas for Vaun, I popped in. I saw you leaving, so I asked the nice lady what you ordered. She said it was a white chocolate mocha with peppermint and cinnamon.”

                “You are stalking me!” I shouted, finally looking up at him.

                He chuckled. “Nope. It was merely a coincidence.”

                “I’m sure.” I spoke, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

                “I’m sure about it, too.” He grinned. “What did you think of me gifts?”

                “Let’s see, I hate roses. I don’t eat sweets much. I don’t really like diamonds and the candles really brassed me off.”

                He frowned. “Here I thought I was doing good.”

                “You weren’t. Are we done here?” I started to stand.

                “Why didn’t you like the candles?” He blurted out, his eyes desperate.

                I sighed, sitting back down, crossing my legs, doing my best to look formal and polite. Secretly, I was hoping that he’d see that I didn’t want to be here and let me leave without making me feel so damn guilty.

                _Guilty? Guilty over what? He didn’t remember you!_ I agreed once again with my inner voice.

                “Because they smell like lilacs and vanilla.”

                “You don’t like that?” I could see his attempt at being serious, but his mouth kept forming into a grin.

                “No. Not particularly.”

                “I got them because you smell like lilac and vanilla.” A full fledge smile split across his face and my heart stopped beating. 

                I felt my face heat up as I ducked my head. _Nice one, stupid_. It was stupid. My body wash at home was vanilla and my perfume was lilacs. Of course, I’m going to smell like it.

                _But what about the reason why you have those…_

                “-Leighton?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

                “What?” I shook my head.

                “You look close to tears, love. What’s wrong?”

                “Stop calling me that.”

                “What?”

                “Love. I’m not your love. I’m not a friend. I’m not anything. Don’t give me a nickname.”

                “You are something. You were there with me at the bridge-”

                “Don’t.” I stood up, the chair screeching against the wood floor. “Don’t you dare say that you remember, because you _don’t_.”

                “I do!” He protested, standing as well. “I do remember. I’m sorry for not putting it together. What were the chances that I was ever going to find another Leighton in this world? How was I supposed to know of you coming back?”

                “I knew _exactly_ who you were the moment I saw you.”

                “Yeah, but I-”

                “Don’t say it’s because you’re in One Direction! I don’t even listen to you! I didn’t know you were in a major boy band until Tuesday. Harry none of this existed to me until after I saw you on Tuesday.”

                “Is that why you don’t like the candles?” He changed subjects.

                “What?”

                “Because they’re the same scents from the bridge?”

                “Oh, look! You do remember something from that night.”

                “I remember a lot from that night.”

                “I’m sure.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not talking about this right now, Harry. I’m done talking about the bridge.”

                “Okay, no talking of that night.” He nodded. “If you don’t like roses, what do you like?”

                I watched him for a moment. He stood there staring at me, eventually sitting down in the seat again. Cautiously, I did the same.

                “Lilies. I like lilies. And lilacs.” I couldn’t deny that when I saw his face light up with that smile, that it caused something to bright up in me and a knot to tighten in my stomach.

                _It’s your heart stupid_. My subconscious sighed. I could just picture it rolling its eyes - if it had any.

                “Why did you send roses?”

                “Because that’s what I thought most girls liked.”

                “I’m not most girls, though.”

                “I know.” He smiled a knowing smile, before leaning forward and bombarding me with questions. One by one I answered them, demanding a response in return. We continued to talk, and I felt myself relax into my seat. I leaned back, crossing my legs at my ankles and slowly turning the spoon in my cup that the barista keeps refilling.

                “What about you? The last song you listened to?” I asked. He just quizzed me on that, and I had said Sunsets by The XX.

                “Hmm…” He trailed off, hands going to his jeans. “I left it in me car.”

                “You’re going to have to figure this out, Styles.” I teased, smiling slightly. “This is a life and death situation.”

                “Life and death, huh? I didn’t know me music taste was so important to you, Miss Harrow of the Rivingtons.”

                “Oh, it is. I’m just _dying_ to know everything about you! Don’t you know?”

                “Oh, yes! It was um, Torn.”

                “Torn?” I raised an eyebrow.

                “You’ve never - You never heard of it - We need to go.” He stood.

                “Go where?”

                “You’re listening to this song. Let’s go.” He grabbed my hand, helping me up. I flushed as I felt a shock run through my system.

                “Where are we going to listen to this?”

                “Me car of course. I’ll drive you home. It’s getting late anyways.” I glanced at the clock behind the counter. It was almost one in the morning. We walked out and I followed him as he walked towards a giant black car.

                “A range rover?” I asked.

                “Well, yes. What else would I have?”

                “I don’t know. You're rich come up with something.”

                “You're rich, too.” He pointed out.

                “No.” I shook my head. “Beverly is. Not me. It isn’t my money.”

                “I didn’t mean to offend you.” He walked over to me, setting the boxes in the back seat. He shut the door and stood in front of me. My breath caught in my throat as I stared into his eyes. I was only slightly shorter than him now that I was in heels.

                “Honest,” He whispered, his gaze flickering down to my lips.

                I froze, my heart stopping for a moment - then raced, causing me to flush. I was sure he could hear it pound in my chest.

                “Honest what?” I breathed, mesmerized by the green of his eyes

                He chuckled. “I can’t remember.” For some idiotic reason, I thought that this would be a perfect scene for a movie or a picture - which reminded me…

                I sighed, leaning back against the passenger door, my hands covering my face. “I forgot!”

                “Forgot what?” Through my fingers, I saw him blink a couple times before taking a small step back.

                “To take pictures in there. I didn’t take any pictures.”

                “Hmm…” His finger brushed against his bottom lip. “I guess we’ll just have to do it again, won’t we?”

                “Possibly. I’d like to go home, now, though.” He nodded and after opening the door and shutting it after I got in, he got to the drivers side.

                “First off. Torn. Original version.”

                “Original version?”

                He sighed. “You have a lot to learn, young cricket.” I stuck my tongue out at him, causing him to laugh. He grabbed his phone from the dock and turned it on. I settled into the passenger seat. The car, I couldn’t help but notice, smelt so much like him.

                _Well, duh._ My subconscious snapped. _It’s his car. What’s it supposed to smell like_? I ignored her.

                I closed my eyes, comfortable in the warmth of the car, in the smell of him, and the easiness of just sitting here, engulfing myself in the song. I couldn’t help but notice Harry humming along as the song played.

                “How did you find this song?” I asked, turning my head in his direction. When I opened my eyes, he was staring at me, eyebrows drawn in, a curious look on his face.

                “You really have been living under a rock…” He shook his head. “It was the first song One Direction ever did as a band. It was at the Judges House on X Factor.”

                “No way! You were on the X Factor!”

                He laughed, his eyes lighting up, and crinkling at the corners. His grin widened, reminding me of the Cheshire cat. “Yes. I was. Do you purposely not listen to mainstream?”

                “Um, yes.” I nodded. “I like being different.”

                “I see.” He nodded towards my outfit.

                I flushed, the words sending a wave of déjà vu over me. “Too claustrophobic,” I whispered.

                “Let me take you home.”

                “I thought it was implied that I agreed when I got into the car with you. Besides, these heels are killing me.”

                “So take them off.” He shrugged, revving the engine.

                “Seriously?”

                He raised an eyebrow at me. “Seriously…” I sighed, completely content taking off the killer heels. “If you don’t like it, then why do you wear them?”

                “I don’t know.” Though, the truth was, I did know. I just couldn’t admit it to myself. Before I could ruin the good mood I was in, I took out my camera and snapped a picture of him.

                “No fair!” He protested. “I wasn’t prepared for that at all.”

                I smiled at the picture. He was looking at me, a soft smile on his lips. “The best pictures are taken during the moments of purity and reality.” When he didn’t say anything, I looked up, to see him just gazing at me.

                “What?”

                “Nothing.” He shook his head. “I just like it when you smile like that. What’s your address?”

                Smile like what? “I live on Montpelier.”

                “That’s not far from here.”

                “No, I either take the tube or when it’s nice out, I just cross through Hyde Park… Sing for me.”

                “What?”

                “I want to hear you sing.”

                “Sing what?”

                “Torn.” I decided, crossing my legs, tucking my ankles under me, making sure my dress covered my legs, camera in my lap.

                “Alright… I have the instrumental version. You can put it on.” I do as I’m told, and the song starts up, and Harry begins to sing.

                It was the single most beautiful things I have listened to.

                The way his voice changed as he sang shocked me for one thing. His voice is normally so deep, and then when he sings, it’s higher. I couldn’t decide which voice I liked better, his regular one, or his singing one. His body tensed and flowed with the music as he sang, hands gripping the wheel every moment or so, eyes closing briefly. I lifted my camera once we were at a red light and took a picture of him again.

                Something inside me began to sink the more he sang. I could feel my mood plummeting farther and farther. My heart began to ache, and my stomach grew knots. I could feel the back of my mind trying to search why I was feeling so hurt all of a sudden, but I just couldn’t seem to reach it. I fought back a small sob and focused on taking deep breaths. Harry didn’t seem to notice.

                I knew that it didn’t have to do with the song or the confusion I was previously feelings towards him. I knew this was something different. It was something deeper - though I don’t know how much deeper there was in me passed all my confusing and fucked up feelings towards Harry.

                I pushed back the sudden sadness and wondered about this. Could friendship work? It obviously was easy right now. Sitting in his car, or at the coffee shop chatting. It _could_ be easy. But for how long? How long before something gets messed up, before everything goes downhill and I’m forced to change my life around. I also know that you can’t be just friends with someone with these feelings I have. They’re too deep and too fragile to bear any sort of truth or pain. What about if this goes public? What if people freak out. What if Beverly makes me go back to New York-

                _This isn’t a relationship_. My conscious snapped. _It’s friendship. And you could obviously use a friend right now._

                I begrudgingly agreed to it. But I had a friend - Avena. Who lived here. But she wasn’t Harry. No one was like Harry. But could I take the jump?

                “-Leighton?” Harry cut me out of my musing.

                “Hmm?” I turned to look up at him. We were parked on the side of the road, him patiently staring at me.

                “Are you okay?”

                “Yeah.” I nodded, smiling. “I was just… I was just thinking about this song. It’s beautiful. You have a great voice.”

                “Thanks.” He smiled in response. “Which one is yours.”

                “Oh, it’s the end one. This one.”

                “End terrace, huh.” A smirk formed on his lips. “Is there a gate to the back garden?”

                “Nice try, Styles.” I rolled my eyes. “Not going to happen.” He just chuckled and got out while I put my camera around my neck. I was about to reach for the door handle when it opened.

                “Oh,” I blinked. “Thanks.”

                “Your humble abode, milady!” He gave a small bow and gestured towards the house.

                I laughed and stepped down. “Well, thank you kind sir.” He hurried to grab the boxes and followed me up the steps.

                “I will never leave you alone now, with knowing where you live.”

                “Can you just picture it?”

                “Picture what?”

                “The cover of newspapers of your mug shot when I call the cops for stalking.”

                “It’s not stalking!” He pouted. I laughed and unlocked the front door. After setting the candles just inside the door, I turned around and gasped realizing how close Harry was. “You know,” There it was again, dark chocolate and honey. I swallowed as he stepped closer to me. I could feel his breath brush against my face. His hand came up to play with the end of my hair, twisting it around his finger. My breathing was caught in my throat now, staring up helpless into his green eyes. “I _always_ kiss on the first date…” My eyes widened and I was held prisoner by my own body as I watched his head bend down, and his lips inch towards mine. Our noses brushed against each other, sending more shocks through my system. With just a tilt of my head and our lips will be-

                “Good thing we’re just friends, huh?” I forced out. He froze, his lips literally millimeters from mine. I mentally kicked myself, wishing I hadn’t said anything. To just taste his lips once. Something I had been dreaming of for a whole year. I closed my eyes and leaned back. “You wanted to try the friends thing, right?”

                “Right.” He nodded, taking a step back. I immediately missed him. His warmth that seemed to radiate from his body. His smell that was mixed with his cologne and just _him_. I wanted him to be so close again, that it felt that I could touch him, where I could feel his movement before he even did it. I wanted him to be close to me again.

                “So, uh…” I ducked my head and bit my lip.

                “To be friends I need your number, love.” He pointed out. I nodded and handed him my phone. He gave me his and I placed my number in there. Going to his camera, I turned the view towards me and took a quick self-shot.

                “You did not just do that?” He laughed.

                “It’s a great picture.” I stuck my tongue out, saving it. “Here.” I lifted my own camera after getting my phone back and took a couple of him. First he made weird faces, before smiling. I studied him for a minute, before taking the camera off from around my neck, and pulled him towards me. “C’mon.” I faced it towards us and we took a couple.

                “There.” I smiled up at him satisfied. “Now, we only need the coffee shop.”

                “How about tomorrow?” He offered.

                “No can do. I’m meeting up with an old friend.”

                “How old is this friend?” He raised an eyebrow.

                “She’s been my friend since I was little.” I rolled my eyes. “How about Monday?”

                He shook his head. “I have an event to go to Monday.”

                “How about this. On my next day off, I’ll call you and see if it coincides?”

                “Sounds like a plan.”

                “Goodnight, Harry.” I turned and headed into the house. I watched as he walked down the steps, down the walk, and to his car. Before getting in he waved. Once inside his car, he honked once and drove into the night. 

                I shut the door, turning the light on in the living room - only to turn it back off again to go straight upstairs. The feeling was sinking in again and I couldn’t stop it from digging into my bones, setting a dark chill over me. I fought against it as best as I could, wanting to push the all too familiar feeling away. The darkness weighed on my shoulders, dragging me down, pushing against my will as I made my way to my room. But I only managed to get out of the dress and into my pajamas when I turned back into the hall. My body just propelled me forward, as masochistic as it was. It pushed me along, guiding me, my inner voice warning me, my heart and my soul and my head begging me to go back and go to sleep. But it would only haunt me in my sleep. I walked up the stairs to the third story. My feet hitting the steps one at a time, like wanting to keep this memory for a later time when happiness will fight to come through. Before I could stop myself, I flipped the light on and stared into the empty black and white room.

                Black bed, white end tables. Black dresser with white borders. Black and white vanity. Black stained hardwood, white walls, black crown molding. Everything was black and white in this room. So formal, so impersonal.

                My body gave out on the top step as I peered into the room. I sank to my knees, not feeling the pain shoot through them, and the sob I had been holding in since the car ride escaped, loud and pleading. Once it was out, there was no stopping it. I continued to cry, wanting nothing more than to go over to that bed and curl up, wishing that someone would be there for me, whispering to me all the great things, willing all the monsters away.

                But there was no one. No one was here to tell me it was going to be okay in the morning. No one to tell it was just the monsters poking fun. No one’s going to tell me that it’s going to be alright in the end -because it might not be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can never thank you guys enough for reading this. I hope you enjoy their interaction here!  
> It's only going to get better and I'm so in love with the way their relationship grows. I hope you all enjoy this journey and I can't wait for you guys to see how they all grow and face their demons.   
> If you think it's cool enough, hit that kudos button.   
> So much love always,   
> \- Rikkibabyy xx


	7. Best Friends and Wonderland

The next morning, I didn’t quite remember where I was. My neck was aching and my back was strained. When I yawned and stretched, I couldn’t help but notice a slight ache in my throat. Sitting up, I saw I wasn’t in my bed. But on the floor by the stairs in Beverly’s room. Confused, I looked around the room until I remembered.

                _No more of that_. My inner voice ordered like a stern mother. _You will cry no more tears over this_.

                “No,” I whispered. “No more tears.” I stood up, brushing off my clothes - of what I don’t know - and stumbled my way downstairs. A hot shower is what’s best right now, I decided and went straight to my bathroom, stripping off my clothes along the way.

                After I had washed up and washed my hair, I stood under the hot cascading water, contemplating last night - before the whole doom I’m-here-to-ruin-your-happiness thing. I had to admit that I did have fun last night. It was nice to sit down and talk to him, after a year. It was great to forget that bitterness that I feel towards him and just relax. Honestly, I couldn’t remember a time when I smiled like that around someone. I was actually a little _shy_.

                _You? Shy? Never_. My inner voice sounded shocked. So was I. I never thought anyone could make the blunt, bitchy Leighton Harrow shy. Admittedly, though, the feeling was nice. Especially the notion of him renting out the coffee shop. And I didn’t stand him up like that last one. He had a lovely singing voice, too. He was funny and he listened, and he looked as if he cared. He didn’t force that kiss last night-which I should have just kept my mouth shut on, thinking back on it. He walked me to my door and bid me goodnight. He was a true gentleman.

                So why does the thought of saying he’s my friend paralyze me?

                I couldn’t answer that question, so I pushed it back, and thought about the pictures I took. The girlish giggle escaped past my lips before I could stop it, and I fell victim that instant. I couldn’t stop smiling and giggling just thinking about last night.

                Quickly I got out of the shower, wrapped up in a towel and searched for my camera and my phone.

 

“You look like hell, love!” My red headed best friend shouted across the street.

                “Thanks! Thanks a lot!” I grinned at her, running to meet her on her side of the street, stretching my arms out wide. She accepted my embrace and I grinned, breathing in her familiar best friend smell, missing her familiar best friend warmth.

                “I’ve missed you, babe,” She said after pulling away.

                “I’ve missed you, too! I just wish I could have gotten here earlier so I could have spent time with you before work started. And then work actually _started_ and I couldn’t talk all week. And today is my only free day until next Sunday.”

                “Isn’t it illegal to have you work six days a week?” She linked arms with me and we began strolling along. My camera bobbed against my stomach my black fringe bag tickled against my shorts-clad thigh.

                “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “It’s Christian Vaun, I’m pretty sure he can whatever he damn well pleases.” She laughed at that.

                “How have you been, though, honest?” She inquired.

                “Good,” I assured. Or at least, I think it was good, to my standards.

                “Just good? What happened?” She stopped and turned to face me, hands on my shoulder, studying my face. I raised an eyebrow.

                “Why couldn’t you come to London early? I was at your graduation, remember? I was the only ginger standing up shouting your name, embarrassing you.”

                I rolled my eyes. “Of course, I remember that. Beverly was pissed.”

                “Good.” Her blue-grey eyes zeroed in on me, though and read me like an open book. “So what happened?”

                “Nothing, I just… I fell asleep in her room again.” I whispered.

                “No… I knew this was going to happen! Why didn’t I just move in with you? This whole ordeal would have been situated!”

                “Don’t say that, it’s my fault.”

                “It.  Is not. Your fault. None of this is your fault. She’s the world’s worst mom and you were blessed with the opportunity to show the world just how strong you are. She sucks, she’s horrible, and I don’t consider her as a mother figure. She shipped Gemavera off to France since she was like six! She’s been pushing you off here since forever with Nancy and Steven until you were old enough for boys to realize that girls were in fact, beneficial. Now all of a sudden she wants you in New York? To be a family? It’s horseshit. She just wants you there so she can pair you up with some dreadfully boring American bloke and force you into a dreadfully boring marriage that you will regret in less than five years, divorce him and start the pattern all over again-”   
                “I am _not_ Beverly.” I hissed.

                “Ace. Now stop acting like it.” She linked arms with me again and led me towards Prufrock. “Now, why couldn’t you be here?”

                “I couldn’t be here early because Beverly held a graduation gala for me. And then there were three charity events that I apparently agreed to attend.”

                “You did, or she did?” I gave her a confirming look. “I knew I should have stayed with you. I need to listen to myself more.” Sounded familiar.

                “So,” She flipped her fiery red hair over her shoulder, then opened the door to the coffee shop. “What are we going to discuss first? The amazing blokes you’ve met? The amazing photos you’ve taken? Or the amazing trip your best friend went on to Bermuda?”

                “I’ll get the table, you get the coffee.” I beamed at her. Some things just never change, and for that, I was extremely grateful.

                I found a corner table by the front windows. I couldn’t bare to be in the back of any place, knowing that the world is only a few feet away from me, just waiting for a beautiful moment to be captured. Looking in the mirror, I saw my reflection and quickly adjusted my black beanie and red loose tank. Sneaking a glance over my shoulder, I saw a line, Avena behind a couple people, and her gaze sneaking towards the pastries behind the glass stands. Good, I’ll have enough time.

                I picked up my camera and went through my pictures from last night. The first one was of Harry, smiling, looking down. It’s my favorite. But as I went through the pictures, of him and then of us, I couldn’t decide which one of him I liked the most. There’s so many adorable ones, dorky ones, funny ones, gorgeous ones, mysterious ones. My finger brushed against my bottom lip, and I felt that I was smiling.

                _Careful,_ my conscious warned, _you may do the girly giggle in public_. So she was in a sarcastic mood today.

                My phone went off as I went through the pictures for the second time. Absentmindedly, I grabbed it from my pocket and clicked in the password.  When I finally tore my eyes away from Harry’s green eyes, I saw it was text - from Harry. It took all I had to not jump up and down in my seat. Looking over my shoulder once more, I quickly opened it.

 

                You might want to try this version. It’s pretty brill Xx

 

Furrowing my eyebrows, I opened the link and saw it was to YouTube. One Direction Torn, at the Judge’s house. I shook my head and typed back a quick reply.

 

                Who is this?

 

I didn’t even lock my phone for a second before it started ringing. A small amused laughter passed my lips, and I answered.

                “Hello?” I asked.

                “Hello?” A deep voice mimicked.

                “Which one is this?”

                “Well, it’s not one of the other six.”

                “That’s mean! There isn’t seven of you. There’s five. There is only five right?” A bellowing laughter caused me to jump slightly. “You boys are cruel.”

                “Sorry, love. Louis said he just had to. You started it first.” That was Harry. A shiver ghosted its way up my spine.

                “I don’t know what you're talking about. I was actually going to see if you wanted to hang out this evening, but now…” I sighed. “I’ll find something else to do.”

                “Wait-Wait, Leighton-” But I had already hung up, giving myself a tiny clap and a wide grin for this.

 

That was mean but well approved. Welcome to the dark side.

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Avena head this way - well not her, but her bright red hair. Quickly, I stuff my phone in my pocket and turn my camera off. I help her settle everything on the table, hoping to distract myself so that I don’t look guilty.

                “So, I couldn’t decide what I wanted, so I got muffins and pastries and a couple of…” She trailed off talking about all the afters she bought along with our drinks. I watched in amusement as she talked and waffled on about it.

                My mind drifted to that feeling I got when I saw his name appear on my phone. Imagine that, every day, for maybe forever. The thought sent chills throughout my body. The grin, now on my face wasn’t from my best friend’s antics, but because of the boy I met a year ago.

                It was that moment - and I couldn’t tell you what specific thought came into my head that made me choose this, or any few, to be honest. This decision came as easy as breathing or photographing art - I knew in that moment, that I was going to jump, to hell with what lie on the bottom.

 

                “Okay. So let me get this straight.” Avena added crisps into the cart. While we were out for coffee, I had slipped and informed her that I didn’t have any food in the flat. After an angry, and completely embarrassing outburst, she forced me into her car and sent us to the grocery store. After, she said, we’re going to make popcorn and watch movies all night. “You managed this whole week without food?”

                “Well, no. I went to the deli after work. And on my way to work and a scone or something. And they always bring lunch in at work. I was fine.”

                “And what would you have done on your day off?”

                “Like today?” I raised an eyebrow, sarcastic. “I don’t know… I could always starve, or you know, go to the store.”

                She rolled her eyes. “You would have forgotten.” Something in her eyes, though, seemed to darken and sadden. Blinking rapidly, she grabbed a box of crackers and snacks, dumping them all in the cart.

                “Whose going to pay for all this?” I demanded.

                “You have money, don’t you? Plus you actually _work_. Something I’d never thought you’d do.”

                “It’s not my money,” I grumbled.

                “Right. Sorry. Forgot.”

                “Okay.” I stopped the cart and turned to her. “What is it?”

                “It’s just… It’s not funny what you're doing. You joking about food. It’s not funny.”

                “I didn’t mean…”

                “Do you remember the last time you forgot to eat?”

                I couldn’t bare to stare at her. I couldn’t look into her blue-grey eyes and not want to break down. Looking everywhere but at her, I nodded. Why did she have to bring this up?

                “Good. Because I don’t want to forget. I don’t want you to not eat, and then not remember how it hurt me and-”

                “And who? Avena-!” I stopped, my voice getting louder than I wanted it. “Avena,” I repeated in a softer tone. “You’re the only person I had.”

                “You had Steven. And Nancy. They were always there. You cannot forget them.”

                “No,” I said dryly. “You can’t forget the only parental guidance you’ve had.”

                “Leighton-Oh! _Look!_ We can make tacos for supper!” She cheered and ran towards the taco shells. Well, at least, we managed to get off topic. She zoomed up and down the aisles, grabbing things here and there. For a while, I tried following her, but gave up and stood at the end of an aisle, admitting defeat.

                “Ave,” I called, laughing, watching her struggle down the aisle with arms full of items. The people that were in the aisle watched her in amusement. “I think we’re done here! I have a flat remember? No mansion this time. Just a flat.” I ignored the looks those people gave me.

                “Okay, _fine_. But I only got some necessary things.”

                “Like what?”

                “Well, I got stuff for your bathrooms, your bedrooms, cleaning supplies, and little knick-knacks for around the flat.”

                “I just want to go back home.”

                “Well let’s go! The Only Way is Essex isn’t going to watch itself! I hope you have this stuff recorded.” She slung her arm over my shoulder and we headed towards the checkout. After an impossibly long line - and an impossibly expensive receipt - we headed back to my flat. Not waiting at all, Avena headed up the path, up the stairs, grabbed the spare key, and waltzed in.

                “Hey, ginger!” I shouted, despite the people in the street. “I don’t have butlers. Get out here and help me!” When she reappeared, her face had gone sour. “Okay, what _now_?”

                “I thought you would have totally redecorated the place.” She shrugged. “That’s all.”

                “You know why.” I shoved two brown paper bags towards her. “Go.”

                “Sir, yes, sir!” She gave a sharp nod and marched up the steps and into the house. I shook my head, smiling at her antics and grabbed the other bags. Once inside we immediately started putting the food away.

                “You were serious!” She cried, opening the stainless steel fridge. “There is absolutely nothing in this refrigerator!” Looking over her shoulder, the inside was pure white as if it was just installed.

                “I told you-”

                “And _nothing_ in the cupboards!”

                “When I said I had nothing, I meant it.” My phone went off, playing that familiar tune.

                “Who is it?”

                I furrowed my eyebrows. “I don’t- Hello.” I couldn’t help but grin, seeing his name. Grabbing boxes of cereal, I opened the cupboard and started putting them away. Avena followed suit.

                “Hi!” He sounded over the phone. “How was your day?”

                “Good. I went out with a friend, I was with her when I called earlier. We went shopping.”

                “What did you get?” His voice sounded genuinely curious. A small shock went through me when I thought that maybe he actually did care.

                “Taco food.”

                “I’m coming over.”

                I laughed. “No your not. It’s girls night.”

                “I’m still coming over. I want tacos.”

                “So go make some!”

                “But you have it.”

                “I’m not making you tacos. It wasn’t on the list of requirements for friends. Go out and get them or something.”

                “Hey, pumpkin!” He shouted through the phone.

                “What?” A voice called back.

                “Do you want tacos for supper?”

                “Ask Niall!”

                “Whose that?”

                “Louis. I’m at Liam’s right now.”

                “Tell them I said hi. I have to go now.”

                “Stupid taco eater.”

                “I think you're just jealous that I chose Mexican over English.” I hung up, my lips stretching into a wide grin.

                “Who on earth was that?” Avena slammed the cabinet shut.

                “A friend.” I shrugged. “I met him at work.”

                “Him? Ooh! I want details!” She cheered, sitting on the pristine white countertop. So as I cooked tacos, I told her about him - vaguely. I told her I met him the first day of work, and that I had met him before a while ago, and now we’re talking. Friends. The thought sent butterflies in my stomach.

                “It’s fate.” She decided. “I mean, there’s no other explanation. You both ended up working at Christian Vaun. Coincidence? I think not.”

                “Go see what’s on the telly.” I was in no mood to be harassed by a tiny red head. She obliged, flipping through the channels, before going onto recorded and started watching The Only Way is Essex. When the tacos were finished - and of course, I had taken pictures of the process - we filled up our plates and settled onto the couch to watch the telly.

                “Okay. So…” Avena began waffling on, and telling me about what I had missed on this show. “-I mean; I don’t understand why Niall doesn’t like this show-”

                “What?” I froze, taco halfway to my mouth. “Who?”

                “Niall Horan. Of One-”

                “Direction. Yeah, I know.”

                She raised an eyebrow. “Miss I-hate-society’s-trends-so-I-follow-my-own-rules, knows the One Direction?”

                “Yep.” I nodded. “I work for Christian Vaun. I can’t be under a rock forever.”

                “That is so _true_!” She beamed. “So, I have to tell you all about them-”

                “I don’t really care to know about them.”

                “What do you know?”

                “They were on X-Factor. And at the judge’s house, they sang Torn, and their version is amazing-supposedly-and there’s five of them.”

                “What’s their names?” Her eyes narrowed, unsure about me.

                “Harry,” Obviously I know this one, “Niall. Louis… Oh, Liam….” Who was the other one...? I went through them in my head, remembering who was who. The brooder - “Zayn.” If I could, I would’ve given myself a pat on the back.

                “Okay, good.” She smiled. When she wasn’t looking, I snapped a picture of her. “Hey!”

                “What? It’s a good one.”

                “Let me see!” She reached for it, but I pulled away, knowing she was going to go through my pictures. This SIM card was going to be my secret.

                “I actually want to show you the pictures I took this week. The ones from work were fantastic!”

                “Yay!” She clapped her hands and stood.

                “Um.” I stalled, trying to think fast. “I’ll just grab my laptop and bring it down here, yeah?”

                “Sure.” She didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll clean up.”

                Quickly I turned and rushed up the stairs breathing a sigh of relief. Ignoring the laptop that sat on my bed, I went over to my wall and started taking the pictures from a year ago down.

                I don’t particularly know why I wanted to keep this from Avena. I mean, that girl had been with me for years, through everything, and helped me through it. She was my constant rock. I had always told her and found ways to see her or talk to her, not being able to keep any secrets from her. But something inside me told me not to tell her. Something told me to keep this a secret for now. The idea of this being a secret sent a shiver up my spine.

                It was decided, I would keep this quiet until the right moment.

                Putting the stack of pictures in an envelope, so they won’t bend, I tossed it onto my messy desk-she’ll never bother to look there. After I grabbed my laptop I headed down the stairs and settled on the couch just as Avena finished putting away the leftovers.

                “Okay! Let’s do this!” She jumped over the back of the couch and settled next to me. As she was oohing and aahing, I flipped through the channels until going to the storage unit the telly resided on and going through the movies I had.

                “There’s no movies down here!” I pouted. “I have Disney movies upstairs. And a VCR.”

                “Let’s go!” Careful of my laptop she headed upstairs, and after grabbing my camera I followed. I put in The Little Mermaid-Avena’s favorite and put on pajamas. Polka-dot shorts and tank, while Avena donned her oversized hoodie and yoga pants.

                “These are really good,” She commented.

                “Thanks.”

                “I like this one.” She showed me a picture of a fence with roses growing on the other side, the rose buds poking in between the chain links. “Where do you find these?”

                “I helped out a lot with magazines. People wanted me for advertisements, blog pictures, school projects even. I did a lot. And some I set up. The rose one was just pure luck while I went for a walk. Now shh, the movie’s starting.”

                She managed to stay quiet, going between my laptop and the movie. That is until Ursula showed up. “I hate that woman.” She shuddered. “Who’s your favorite Disney character?”

                “No princess?” I raised my eyebrows in mock surprise.

                “Seriously. No, okay. Pick a princess and a character.”

                “My princess would be… Rapunzel.”

                “Tangled, really?”

                “I like her! She tries to find who she is, and what she loves - though she doesn’t realize it - and follows her heart, not what people tell her to do.”

                “She lied to her backstabbing mom. Fell in love with a con artist. Oh, and her only friend was a talking lizard.”

                “Iguana. And he didn’t talk.” I rolled my eyes. “That’s because she was trapped in her high tower.”

                “Like you?” She whispered. I turned my head to stare at her, knowing my eyes were blank and void of emotion. “In your ivory tower?” Still, I said nothing. “Your favorite character?”

                “Alice.”

                “From Alice in Wonderland?”

                “The one and only. Because she says it’s okay to love your dreams more than reality.” She opened her mouth, but I beat her to it. “What about you?”

                “Ariel. Or Mulan. Maybe Belle.”

                “Mulan isn’t a princess. She was a war hero’s daughter.”

                “She worked for the emperor. It’s close enough.”

                “That was _after_ she saved China.”

                “Whatever. She still kicked serious arse. Belle’s my favorite princess.”

                “Why?”

                “Because she lives in a huge house with talking household products…” She gave me a look. “I don’t overanalyze movies made for five-year-olds.”

                “So sorry. What about the character?”

                “Peter Pan. He reminds me of a leprechaun version of Robin Hood in his green tights.” That caused me to bust out laughing. And after I started, I couldn’t seem to stop. We passed jokes back and forth, watching another movie – Cinderella - before actually laying down and going to sleep.

                “Why?” Avena whined. “It’s only like ten.”

                “I have work tomorrow!” I groaned. “I sound dreadfully boring already.”

                “You need to pick whether you want an English accent or keep your American. You’ve spoken American all day until we got home, and spoke on your phone.”

                “Really?” She nodded. “Oh. I don’t know. I can’t decide.” Curling over onto my side, I turned off the lamp on the end table was out before I heard the fairy godmother.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this! I love coming on here and seeing the number of views going up. I hope you all like this story so far. You should totally comment if you like it, what you don't like about it (Please be nice), how you feel about the characters. I want to know what you all think!  
> So much love,   
> Always,   
> Rikkibabyy -xx


	8. Little Alice

The next morning, my alarm got me up, much to my annoyance.  
“For the Queens sack,” Avena groaned into her pillow. “Turn the bloody thing off!”  
“I’m going.” I sat up, pushing back the bright green duvet and smacked my alarm clock. After going into the bathroom and starting the shower, I went into my closet and decided on what to wear. My mind went to the conversation with Harry on Saturday night. He didn’t understand why I wore them. He had a point, I mean if I find them uncomfortable, why do I wear them? Deciding on my usual attire, I grabbed a white sundress, a jean jacket, a pair of Steve Maddens, and a blue and black striped beanie. After I had gotten in the shower and dressed, I blow dried my hair, leaving it down and grabbed a necklace that matched the stripes of my beanie.  
“I’m leaving,” I said, grabbing my black fringe bag and camera. “You can stay as long as you want. And if you borrow something, let me know and wash it before you return it this time.” Avena gave a weak wave.  
It was when I opened the front door when I the idea of Avena snooping through my pictures bombarded my brain. Shutting the door, I went back upstairs, grabbed the case of SIM cards with the boys on one of them, and the envelope. Turning around, I saw Avena staring at me, all blurry-eyed and messy red locks.  
“Notes from a meeting on Saturday,” I smiled. “Go back to bed.”  
“It’s too bloody early for this!” She pulled the pillow over her head and drifted back to sleep. I rushed down the stairs, out the door.  
At my routine stop at Prufrock, I was debating between the pastries when my phone buzzed. Rolling my eyes, I was prepared to tell Harry to bug off but I saw it was an email - from work. Quickly I opened it up and saw it was from Vaun.

From: Vaun  
To: Christian Vaun Photography Employees  
Date: 28. May. 5:21AM  
Subject:  
  
Meeting at Central Headquarters. Six or you are late.

Well, that was brief… Glancing at the clock, panic ran through me. There was no way I was going to make it to Central London in time. It was already close to half past five. I quickly picked a pastry, grabbed my coffee and rushed out of there, racing towards the closest Subway access.

Grumbling the whole way down the street, I cursed Vaun, and London and everything in sight. I was about twenty minutes late, as I knew I would be, and I knew I was going to get into a lot of trouble. Throwing away my now empty cup of coffee, I headed inside the Main Headquarters. Upon walking in, I saw the same man from my first day on the job sitting behind the reception desk.  
“You’re late.” He said, not even looking up.  
“Gee, thanks for the reminder. Where is everyone?”  
“Meeting.” He pointed with his pen towards the hallway I didn’t get a chance to look into.  
“Thanks.” I said curtly, rushing towards the grey painted hall. Steeling myself for the lecture on how money was time, I walked into the only room the hall led into. Opening the Black French doors, I took a deep breath and stepped inside-  
“You’re late!” A French-accented man shouted.  
“Yes sir, I know. The quickest way here was the tube, and-”  
“I don’t want to hear your petty excuses! Sit. Now.” Quickly and without another word, I scurried over towards the closest empty seat, which happened to be next to McKenna.  
“Oh dear.” She whispered to me. I raised a quick eyebrow in response and pulled out my laptop to take notes.  
“Is that everyone?” Mr. Vaun huffed. “You know, girl, you got a lot bottled up showing up. You might as well not even have shown up at all-”  
“At least, I tried-”  
“Yes, but do you know what happens to people who are late. People get fired. Models get fired. They end up with no jobs and out of the business-”  
“Then it’s a good thing I’m behind the camera, isn’t it?” I snapped back. Tension rolled in thick waves throughout the room, everyone looking anywhere but us two, trying to ignore the stare down we were having. “Sir,” I raised an eyebrow.  
“You little-”  
“Sorry I’m late,” Mr. Till waltzed in. This had to be the only time I was thrilled to see that man. “Traffic was terrible and I had received the message quite late.”  
“No worries John.” Vaun smiled at him.  
“You’re kidding, right?” I blurted out.  
“Leighton.” McKenna hissed. “Stop. You’ll get us all in trouble.”  
“McKenna’s right. Listen to her more often.” Vaun snapped. “Mind your tongue, girl. You still work for me, no matter who your mummy is.”  
Something dark and sinister surged through me. I bit my tongue to the extent of tasting blood as I glared at that man, deciding that I hated every ounce of his being. My hands shook and I started seeing red.  
“Now.” Vaun clapped his hands together. “Let’s start the meeting.” Grabbing a remote off the long black table, he pressed a button, turning off the lights, then showing a projection. “As everyone knows, I will be attending a photo shoot in Madrid.”  
“When was this?” I mouthed to McKenna.  
“For weeks.” She shrugged.  
I pursed my lips, my thumb pounding against my phone screen. “My team and I will be shooting for Vogue Italia, along with various Italian magazines unspecified at this moment…” He droned on and on about the shoot, explaining who would be there, what the shoot was about, the fashion, the make-up. I took the chance to look around the room. Around the table stood the head and vice president of each sector of the company. The head and assistant to financial, wardrobe, make-up, styling, set up, tech crew, management, advertisement. Everyone from every department was here, taking notes, watching the presentation intently, hanging onto his every word. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. The room was painted in dark grey, black and white accents around the room in décor and paintings. The table was a black espresso color; the chairs were plush white. The pictures of people, plants, and abstract art were in various shades, eliciting a mood that I couldn’t quite understand.  
“-Now, I need a team to go with me.” My eyes snapped back to Vaun at those words. I can go to Madrid. The thought sent shivers up my spine.  
_You go to Madrid all the time_ , my inner voice snapped. _The only difference is that you get yelled out by a French man, take pictures of actual models, and get paid for it._  
The idea didn’t sound so bad to me.  
“I’ll need you to leave immediately and pack. The plane leaves at three this afternoon.” Turning the page in his stack of papers and briefly read through it, causing the anxiety to sink in further. I even noticed McKenna sitting up straighter, her eyes alighted with nervousness and excitement. Others too looked interested in who he was going to say.  
“Elizabeth. Anthony. Ivy. Lucy. Michelle. Michael. Ruby, Charlotte, Eva, Christopher, Peter. And McKenna.” He glanced around the room. McKenna let out a small squeal and started gather her stuff. “I will see you at three this afternoon.”  
“Wait. That’s it?” I cut in.  
“What do you mean, that’s it? I have wardrobe, makeup, styling, set up, etcetera. I have everyone I need.”  
“How about the intern that supposed to be learning from you?”  
He stared at me for a moment while the people who were call bustled out of the room. A smile split on his face and he let out a laugh. “Pardon me? What did you say? No, my dear. You do not get to go to Madrid. You are late almost every day. You don’t do anything to benefit this company. You insist on ignoring my orders and doing what you choose. You never listen to what anyone tells you. Just today, you argued with me. So no, you will not be going on any trips until you learn to respect authority and do as your told!”  
My glare settled with his, my mouth clamped shut despite the tongue that wanted to lash out. I couldn’t believe he had said those things to me. Until I respect authority? Do as I’m told?  
_I didn’t realize you were five, needing parents’ permission_. My inner voice finally snapped. It wasn’t like I got Beverly’s permission for anything in my life anyways.  
Your life reflects that, too. My subconscious harped. I ignored her.  
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”  
“Yes, sir.” I snapped.  
“Good. Now, you will stay behind with the rest of the team and work on the next shoot. You have one week. Mark my words; one week to get everything done. Models are coming in tomorrow for the casting of the shoot. After that is the financial meeting. Wednesday wardrobe comes in and you will fit the selected models. Thursday is Tech. Friday is getting done with whatever is left to be done. Today you will be going over the theme of the shoot.” The lights turned back on, and he bustled out the door, Ivy on his heels.  
“Would you care to rant some more, or can we get straight down to business?” Mr. Till peered at me.  
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll cut you off in the middle of your spiel. But go ahead.” I retorted. A soft chuckled echoed through the room. He gave me a condescending look before standing.  
“Good. Because the sooner this starts, the sooner it ends and we can all go home.” Everyone agreed to that.  
“Wait, so we only have to do what’s planned and that’s it?”  
“That’s it.” He nodded. “Now…”

Whipping out my phone, I dialed the familiar number, bustling past people in my dire need to get back home.  
“Top of the morning!” She cheered.  
“Just because you’re a ginger doesn’t mean you're Irish.” I snapped.  
“What’s wrong?”  
“I hate my job. I hate Vaun. I hate Mr. Till. I’m pissed at McKenna. I hate this freaking job!”  
“Bad day, huh?”  
“No, it was fantastic.” I hissed.  
“Go to Prufrock. Get the biggest mocha you can possibly get. Buy the biggest snack there. Then tell me the whole story.” She instructed.

  
“What is the theme for this?” I asked, looking through the notes that were shared with us. I synced my previous notes from my phone onto my laptop that I had up and running now.  
“Some child’s play.” He waved his hand.  
“You don’t even know the theme? If you don’t know the theme, how could you possibly know what kind of models you want? And if you don’t know what models you want, then you can’t get fittings in. The advertising will be all wrong. The theme is what balances all the aspects of these shoots.”  
“And tell me, little girl, how could you possibly know all this?”  
“I did have a life back in New York. I didn’t do complete freelance.” My tone was icy. My fingers twitched, begging to clench into a fist and deck him in the face. The idea of his nose bleeding was a slight comfort.  
“Your silly little projects are of no interest to us here.”  
“Who do you think you are?” I snapped.  
“Your boss. For the next weeks at least.”  
“Ease up, John.” The man sitting across from me sighed. “She’s only a kid. Besides, we do need to know the theme. It’s important.”  
Mr. Till glared at him, then at me before starting up a slideshow. What’s with these people and slideshows?  
“Thank you.” I mouthed to him. He just nodded.  
“The inspiration for this shoot is ‘Alice in Wonderland’.”  
“Really?” I sat up straighter. I could feel my eyes widen and a smile stretch on my lips.  
“Yes, really. Are you familiar with it?” A soft chuckle floated around the room.  
“It’s one of my favourite Disney movies.”  
“Then you should be well acquainted with this field.” Another chuckle. Honestly, I will never understand British humor. “Now.” Turning back to the slides he went through the overview of what we were to discuss in this meeting and the others this week.  
“What are we trying to capture in this?” I cut in during his finance spiel.  
“Excuse me?”  
“The image we’re trying to sell. There're so many themes in Alice in Wonderland. What are we trying to sell?”  
“Lass, I don’t think you understand the meaning of the term intern.”  
“Maybe not.” I shrugged. “But at least, I don’t overlook the obvious necessities.” Soft coughs echoed in the room as people tried to cover their shock and laughter.  
“Fine.” He gave a smile that caused an unpleasant shiver to run down my spine. “If you don’t overlook the obvious, then why don’t you do the debriefing for Vaun and send it to him.”  
“Fine.” I snapped.  
“Brilliant. Here.” He handed me a stack of papers. “Everything on here needs to be included in it. Graphs, charts, slides, little fancy pictures if you want. Just make it good.”  
“Perfect.” I hissed, snatching the papers from him.  
“Fantastic. You need to include how were going to handle everything this week. Models, finances, advertisement, marketing, fittings, clothing, catering. Everything.”  
“Fine. What’s the budget?”  
“It’s Christian Vaun for Christ Sakes. There’s hardly a budget. But if your adolescent brain cannot comprehend that then it’s around a couple million.”  
“Dollars?”  
“Euros, little girl.” He hollered. I cringed. “It’s England. You’re not across the pond. Although, you soon might be.” He shared a look with a few of the people seated around the table. They laughed.  
“Might be?”  
“Dear. There is no way you can finish that presentation by tonight.”  
“When’s it due?”  
“About eleven tonight.”  
“Done.” I stood, shutting my laptop, and gathering my things. “I’ll be here bright and early tomorrow with coffee and snacks. Have a great day, guys.” I turned on my heel and managed to not trip in my dramatic exit.  
  
“Sounds rough.” Avena let out a breath, it crackling through the speaker.  
“It is,” I grumbled, unlocking the front door, placing my laptop case on the foyer table, my bag on a hook and loosening my combat boots. “Honestly. I just said it to piss him off. I didn’t think he’d bite. Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut?”  
“Good question, love. But you’ll be fine. You do well under pressure…” But the words that slipped out of her mouth seemed false.  
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll ring you later. I want to get working on this.” Quickly I glanced at the clock sitting on the bar. “I have about twelve hours. Bye love.”  
“See ya!” She cheered, hanging up. Sighing, I grabbed my laptop case and trudged over to the bar to set to work.  
You can do this. My little voice of encouragement whispered. Even she didn’t believe it.  
_Are you honestly going to let Beverly be right?_ My subconscious hissed. _When you don’t get this done, and get fired. What are you going to tell her, huh? That you failed? That you’re a screw up like her-_  
“Enough!” I shouted at no one. “I will not be like her. I will not be like Beverly.” Squeezing my eyes shut, I willed the negative thoughts away, cleared my head and addressed this brutality.

My phone buzzed. Furrowing my eyebrows, I reached for it. My tongue was between my teeth as I bit it, jaw clenched, leaning forward towards the screen as I focused on the task at hand.  
“Hello?” I asked, saving my work.  
“Afternoon, love.” A cheeky voice sounded through my phone.  
“Harry, what the bloody hell do you want? I’m busy.”  
“Oh. With what?”  
I sighed, leaning back, my back practically sighing in relief. “What do you want?”  
“I wanted to talk. And say good afternoon. And see if you wanted to go out this afternoon.”  
“Go out?”  
“Well yeah. No-I mean…” A small silence permitted. “As friends. Just go out. Nip over to an ice cream parlor or something.”  
“Uh huh…” I nodded, not convinced. “Don’t you have work or something, Styles?”  
“Well, actually I’m calling from work.” He teased.  
“Okay. I’m busy. Tell me what you want.”  
“I just wanted to see the sun.”  
“It’s been out since six this morning. Goodbye, Harry-”  
“I wasn’t talking about the sun, sun.” He rushed in. “I meant you.”  
I flushed despite myself. He wants to see me. Why? I’m nothing special. Can’t you just find a bimbo girl to hang out with? Did you just compare yourself to a bint?  
“Flattery will get you nowhere with me, Styles.” I sighed.  
“Have you eaten lunch?”  
“No.” I blinked, looking at the clock. A little after two. “I hadn’t thought about it at all.”  
“Really now. Ace-”  
A loud pounding vibrated against the glass of the sliding door in the back of the terrace apartment. “Hold on,” I sighed, bringing my phone down to my side and headed to the back of the house. Another knock against the glass. _Please_ , I thought _, hit it some more._ _I don’t think you cracked the glass yet._ Taking the classic black and white curtain in my other hand, I pulled it aside.  
A face was pressed against the glass, causing me to scream bloody murder and jump back. He continued to bang on the door, but I could hear his velvet and honey laugh. Jerking the curtain back again, I glared at him.  
“What the bloody hell is wrong with you!” I screamed into the phone.  
He continued laughing, his green eyes bright with mirth. His curls that he attempted to pull back fell over his face again. My breath caught in my throat for a moment as I stared at him in wonder, and I forget for a moment that I was angry at him.  
But it was only a short moment.  
“What Styles?” I snapped. “I’m close to calling the police on you!”  
“I’m sorry.” He bit out between laughs. “But your face was… priceless.” He leaned over, laughing again, his head resting on the sliding door.  
I ended the phone call and stood there with my arms crossed over my chest. “What do you want?”  
“Well. I have this.” Behind his back, he pulled out a big thin box. Pizza. Oh. “And…” He gave a cheeky grin again, placing a pair of pale pink heels on the top.  
“My Mary Janes!” I cheered. “Why did you have them?”  
“Because you left them in my car Saturday night.”  
“Why didn’t you return them on Sunday?”  
“Because you said you were out with a friend and I didn’t want to bother you with these.”  
“I want my heels back.”  
“The only way you’re getting these back if you I’m allowed in with the pizza.” I contemplated it, studying him, glaring. Finally, though, my need for the vintage inspired shoes outweighed my need for killing him and I opened the door. He stepped in going straight into the kitchen.  
“You have a lovely home.”  
“It’s a terrace house.” I deadpanned. “There isn’t much ‘lovely’ about it.”  
“I beg to differ.” He flashed a smile before setting the box on the bar. “May I have a tour?”  
“Oh sure.” He didn’t seem to catch onto my sarcasm. “That over there is my living room, this is the kitchen and you walked past the dining room. Great. Tour over.”  
“I meant your bedroom.” He chuckled, his low soft voice brushed against my skin, giving me shivers.  
“Not going to happen.” I went to my laptop and resumed where I was.  
“What are you doing?”  
“Work.” I shrugged. “I have to make an overview presentation. It’s-” My phone rang out, cutting me off. “Christian Vaun Photography. This is Leighton Harrow speaking.” I spoke in my most professional way.  
“This is Sara. Sara Givings.”  
“Right! The model for tomorrow.” I grabbed the stacks of paper and leafed through them until I came upon her picture. “You will be there tomorrow, correct, for the casting call?”  
“Of course. I just wanted to confirm call time and everything - since you were the ones that called me.”  
“Well, you see. We have so many auditions. I just wanted to make sure that the promising ones will be there.”  
“Oh.” Her voice instantly cheered up. “Safe. I’ll be there! Have a good day.” I rolled my eyes, knowing that she would fall for that.  
“Right. Cheers.” I hung up, going back to my laptop shuffling through the styles of the shoots.  
“That looks awfully terrible,” Harry whined, going to sit on the black plush couch.  
“No one invited you over here.”  
“You left your shoes in my car. I can read the signals.”  
“There are none Styles!” I snapped, spinning around to glare at him. “What are you getting at? Because I don’t have time to be dabbling with you right now. I have work that needs to be done. Tonight. Don’t you have a job?”  
“Yes. I’m a singer., in case you didn’t know.” He flashed a cheeky grin. “But I have the afternoon off. Later tonight I have a publicity thing.” I ignored him, continuing with my work. This had to be perfect.  
Why? My inner voice sneered. Nothing else in your life is. You’ll just mess this us like everything else.  
No. I will not mess this up. I will get this right. Vaun will love it. I will keep my job. And I will not be a fuck up.  
Who are you trying to fool? She taunted.  
“-Leighton!” Harry cut into my vicious train of thought.  
“What? I’m busy.” But he just sat down on the bar stool next to me, silent and graceful. For a brief moment, I admire his agility, being that tall and still managing to look confident and comfortable with it. He had mastered his body in jeans and a Jack Wills sweater. But the thoughts dashed from my head when his hand came into view. I flinched away from him, but I wasn’t quick enough. His thumb had brushed against my cheek. I gasped slightly at how soft his hand was, and how my heart stuttered feeling his skin against mine.  
“You were just crying. Looking tormented. What is it? Are you stressed? Do you want me to leave?”  
“Harry I’m not discussing this with you.” I quickly wiped at my eyes, pushing his arms away from me. They fell weakly to his side.  
“Do you want me to leave?”  
“I don’t understand why you are here to begin with.”  
“Because…” He sighed, his hand coming up to shake out his hair. I watched mesmerised as his fingers ran through his curly brown hair, then pushed it back out of his eyes. “Saturday night you said we could try the friend thing.”  
I was struck dumb at that. I had said that. And then I remembered Sunday. Staring at the pictures of him and me, smiling, actually looking like friends. Why couldn’t I just do that? For one day?  
My mood quickly plummeted thinking of how I had just treated him, knowing I made myself that promise just yesterday. To hell with what lay at the bottom…  
“Okay.” I sighed. “There’s tea in the cupboard over the stove. Kettles in the cabinet next to it. And plates are in this cupboard.” I pointed. “Set to work, Styles. It’s what I’ve been doing all morning.”  
“Safe.” He grinned, hoping off the stool and glided into the kitchen. While he manoeuvred around the kitchen, I continued to glance up at him, until my eyes glued onto him, watching him as he moved with ease around it. Opening one cabinet or another he pulled things out, humming slightly as if he had been in this kitchen for years instead of just minutes. Setting the kettle onto the cooktop on the island, he turned it on, let the water’s temperature rise. Turning, he shook out his hair, pushing it out of his face, then opened the cabinet by me to get mugs. The only noise that was made were his continued humming as he took out a cat mug, with its tail as the handle and a cookie monster cup.  
“You would not expect these.” He set them beside me. “Not in these cupboards.”  
I chuckled. “I’m full of surprises.”  
“That, Leighton, you are.” He winked, causing me to flush, before turning back around and going to the cupboard by the fridge. Taking out two black and white plates he set them besides the pizza box, just as the kettle started to whistle. Grabbing tea bags that sat in a container next to the stove, he placed them in the cups.  
“Milk?”  
“No.” I shook my head. He gave a look. “There are some American tendencies in me, Styles.” I teased.  
“Well, that’s good, being American and all…” He chuckled, grabbing the newly bought milk.  
“I’m not.” I blurted out.  
He raised an eyebrow at me in question as he poured his milk, then grabbed the now whistling kettle.  
“Two lumps of sugar.”  
“Sure, love.” He winked. I rolled my eyes.  
“I was born here. In London.”  
“Really?” He handed me my cookie monster cup.  
“Yep. How’d you know I wanted cookie monster?”  
He shrugged. “I didn’t. I just wanted the cat one.”

“Okay.” He sighed, walking around the couch, pausing whatever show he was watching. “I don’t want to watch this. If I did, I would do this at home.” He stood on the other side of the bar, in front of me. I peered over my laptop at him.  
“I’m finally working out the layout for this one.”  
“Which one is this?”  
“Budgets.”  
He let out a groan before his hands flew out. I let out a shriek, moving my hands just in time as the laptop clicked closed.  
“Harry!” I screamed. “I didn’t save it!”  
“It’ll fall asleep.” He rolled his eyes. “You need to eat. Now.” I blinked at him, then at the pizza box still untouched. I had forgotten about it.  
“Right. Okay. Um, heat it up, yeah?”  
“Yeah.” He nodded in confirmation, taking out pieces, putting them on the plate, then into the microwave. “You need a break anyways.”  
“Sure.” I rolled my eyes.  
“So what do you do in the house all by yourself?” He asked leaning against the counter adjacent to the bar. I gaze at him, looking at ease, and comfortable and confident. A small spark of envy flashed through me.  
“I don’t know. I usually look through my pictures, watch TV…” _Vent to yourself about how you hate Beverly. Talk to yourself. Argue with yourself. Oh, and let’s not forget the last episode-_  
“Nothing really.” I forced myself away from that dark train of thought.  
“Can I see some pictures?” His simple question caused my body to lock down. My insides screamed in alarm, my stomach trembled. I couldn’t find myself to breathe much less speak. What on earth…?  
_You don’t want him to see your failures._ My inner voice whispered. _You’ll never be good enough_.  
No. Stop. The negative words scratched at my insides, clawing up my throat, begging to spew out. But nothing will come out. _You’ve not eaten today._  
I opened my mouth and closed my eyes. “Sure.” But the words sounded breathy and timid. Scared.  
“I just want to see the ones that you took Saturday night. Did they turn out well?” He was nonchalant. Did he not notice my dilemma? My near breakdown? No, he couldn’t have. Could he?  
“They did,” I grinned at him. He smiled back, a cheeky almost Cheshire-like grin. The timer went off on the microwave. “I’ll nip upstairs and grab my camera, yeah?” I stood, practically running up the stairs to fetch my camera, doing my best to ignore the lock on my bedroom door. “Here.” I held it up, going over to the couch.  
“Here as well.” He handed me a plate with pizza on it. I smiled thanks and took it. He set his plate on the glass coffee table and reached for my camera. “These are good.” He said after a moment. “Really good.”  
“Thanks,” I smiled, sheepish.  
“Seriously, like, these are amazing.” He grinned fully at me. When his eyes went back to the camera, though, the joy wiped away from his face.  
“Harry?” I asked, my voice slightly trembling. _Failure_.  
“This one?” He turned the screen towards me. It was of him and I. We were wide-eyed and grinning pointing to each other. A shiver went through me as I remembered his arm that went around me in that moment; you could see it on my face.  
“What about it? Is it bad? I’ll get rid of it-”  
“Can you send this to me?” He cut me off. “I quite like this photo.” His smile now was softly, and it was then that I noticed his dimples. Why hadn’t I noticed that before? They rested on either side of his cheeks, causing him to look younger and childish. Innocent. It took all I had to not want to brush my hand against them.  
“Uh. Sure? Why?”  
“Because this one’s my favorite. I adore it.”  
“Sure. I’ll do it now.” I fetched my laptop from the bar and set to work. While he ate and I nibbled we chatted and he watched me go through the process of my pictures.  
“Wait-Who’s this?” He pointed to a picture.  
“Oh, that’s Avena. I was with her on Sunday. She’s-”  
“Your best mate, yeah?” I nodded. “What were you doing?”  
“I think that was when we went down to Milan for a week or two with her dad.”  
“Wow. That’s incredible.”  
“Yeah.” I nodded.  
“She’s pretty.” He commented. I just nodded. “How’d you meet her?”  
“Long story,” I mumbled.  
“I’ve got some time.” He stretched out, letting out a groan to emphasise the point. I stayed quiet. “Leighton?”  
“Hm?” I pursed my lips. He remained quiet.  
“What about this one?” He pointed to a picture of a butterfly resting on a dying rose. I welcomed the change in topic and felt myself relax.  
  
“What time is it?” Harry finally asked, after pestering me about my what I liked and disliked for almost a half hour.  
“Eight thirty- Oh shit!” I shot up from laying down on the couch, my legs flying off the couch where they resided on Harry’s lap. “It’s Eight Thirty!” I grabbed my laptop and flew to the bar, rushing to get the computer up and loading.  
“What’s the big deal?” He asked, tilting his head back to look at me.  
“I only have two and a half hours left!” I screeched at him.  
“You finished most of it, though, didn’t you love?”  
“Stop calling me that.” I snapped.  
He seemed to let out a sigh before standing. “I’m going to head out to let you concentrate.” Grabbing the dishes, he set them in the sink, before turning to me. “Leighton.” I ignored him. _Do you ignore everything important in your life?_ My subconscious sneered. No. _Looks like it to me-_  
“Leighton!” Harry was in front of me now, turning me to look at him. “Look at me.” His jade green eyes were wide with concern. “You zoned out for a minute there. Listen to me. You’ll do great. This presentation will be amazing and Vaun will be completely knocked for six. Don’t worry about it, love.”  
I took a deep breath then nodded. “Okay. Yeah, your right.”  
“I usually am.” He smirked. “I’m going to let myself out.” His hands squeezed my shoulders. “Just relax. You’ll be fine.” I could feel his body tense a little before he relaxed and leaned forward. For a panicked moment, I thought he was going to try to kiss me again, but his lips gently brushed against my forehead. My breath caught in my throat as I felt his soft, pink lips against my skin.  
“Good night, Leila.” His voice was that kryptonite of dark chocolate and honey.  
“Night, Styles.” I stumbled out, flushing. He turned and with grace and ease, he headed to the front door and was gone. I stood there for a moment, watching the door.  
_Good. He’s gone_. My subconscious harped.  
_No. He’s gone…_ I thought. I ignored the dark voice in my head. I half expected him to come back, laughing, saying he was teasing. But he didn’t. I stood there, frozen, just waiting, waiting. But nothing happened.  
_He’s not showing up_! I flinched at those thoughts and quickly turned to my laptop to settle back down into work. The only thing left were the models references and a list of the crew involved in this task. Thinking of these two things, I flushed with pride, knowing I got everything else down. Four spreadsheets, umpteen graphs and pretty pictures and endless slides of info, I better have most things done.  
When it was over, I had time to spare. Quickly with the few minutes I had left, I brushed over the ideas then sent it off to Vaun, grinning the whole time.  
That was when the events of the day crashed over me, though, as I forced myself up the stairs. My body weakened with the need of sleep and I felt my muscles relax as I put on my pajamas. Running my fingers through my hair and yawning, I went to my window to close the curtains. A pretty note sat on my desk, though. Normally, I wouldn’t have noticed, with my desk being cluttered and all, but there is sat, neatly folded up, a pretty design etched on it, with a heart in the center shaded in. Curious, I grabbed it and opened it up.

_Take care of yourself, love._

Instantly, I knew who it was. Avena. I smiled softly thinking of my red headed best friend shuffling through my clutter on my desk, making this note before leaving this morning. The note caused a warm feeling to spread throughout my body, and I welcomed the uncommon feeling. But glancing out the window of the curtains I’d yet to pull closed, I saw the glare Big Ben, glowing bright and proud in the middle of London.  
Yeah. My inner voice whispered. Glancing down at the street, I saw where I just knew his car was parked earlier. In warm feeling intensified and I was full out grinning now.  
_Please take care of yourself._ She continued to whisper. I will, I promised, thinking of the new reason that beats out all the odds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, i'm actually super terrible at posting anything on time. Thank you to everyone who is reading and I sincerely hope you're enjoying this so far. This chapter was mostly about Leighton and the relationship with those she works with. And her relationship with Avena and of course with Harry will continue and grow. Can't wait for the twists and turns ahead.   
> Feel free to comment, let me know what you think (Please and thank you!)  
> Forever grateful for you lot that read this.   
> all the love always,   
> Rikkibabyy -xx


	9. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi my lovelies!  
> Okay, so I'm doing a little warning right now for this chapter. There is an allude to rape, so I'm going to do a warning before and an acknowledgement afterwards.  
> If it's triggering to anyone, I understand and I'm so sorry.  
> Also I wanted to just put it out there in shit at updating throughout the school year becuase I do too much and drink too much tea and never get enough sleep. With that said, my finals are this week so summer is happening which means I am free to update. I think I'm feeling every Tuesday (starting this Tuesday hopefully)  
> Alright, without further adieu, onward with the drama and shenanigans.

“Morning everyone!” I sang, gliding into the meeting room, my hands full of drinks and snacks. “I have these amazing pastries and some teas and coffees. I hope you enjoy.” Setting them at the center of the table in the conference room, everyone that was gathered around it reached for one.

                “Miss Harrow?” Mr. Till sneered. He reminded me awfully of my dark thoughts. “You’re still here?”

                “Yes, sir,” I smirked. “I finished the portfolio. Sent over to Vaun and everything.”

                “Ace.” He said, with a twinge of sarcasm in his voice.

                “Yep.” I was nearly bouncing where I stood. Rocking back and forth on my feet, I took notice of who was here. “Models, yeah? I made a bunch of calls and-”

                “Just stop.” Mr. Till sighed, sinking into his seat.

                “I’m sorry?”

                “What are you trying to prove here? Honestly, this whole thing is exhausting.”

                “What do you mean?”

                “Dear,” Mr. Till leaned forward, clasping his hands together on the black table. It suddenly looked daunting and teasing, mocking me for what I knew was to come. “The only reason why you are here is because this company is working alongside your step daddy. Honestly, we were just doing him a favor.”

                It would have been easier to have cold water splashed on me. I felt the stabbing pain in my gut deepen the slow healing wounds being ripped open again. Here I was. Again. A failure. Like always. My stomach clenched, my subconscious screaming at me, saying she was right, the dark thoughts misting over me, teasing, spreading white hot embarrassment over my skin, seeping into my veins.

                “Oh.” Was all I could choke out. “Is that what this is?” I looked around the room. Everyone averted their eyes, suddenly finding other things fascinating over this topic. Some went through their phones, other going over notes, some chatting quietly. “I see.” I could feel my face getting hot, my body betraying me, showing my embarrassment.

                “Why’d you have to do that?” The same man from yesterday piped up. “She’s only a kid-”

                “I’m not a kid.” I cut in, anger flaring up in me. I quickly pushed it down, hoping to prove my point. “Mr. Till’s rights. I’m here to intern and that’s all. It’s alright.” I grabbed a chair, pulling it back and sinking into it, my body fighting to lean against the back of the chair. But I fought against it.

                _You’ve won enough battles these past couple days…_ My inner voice encouraged.

                _You only managed to show them that you aren’t a brat you actually are_. My subconscious hissed. I blinked, the feelings in me edging out, creeping slowly, one at a time. The tears that pooled at the corners of my eyes retreated. My eyes grew dry as I grew numb.

                “Mr. Vaun, sir?” Mr. Till answered the phone I didn’t know was ringing.

                “I saw the portfolio!” Mr. Vaun cheered. “Lovely. Really lovely. Fantastic really.” He gushed.

                “Thank you Vaun. It took a lot of hard work,” My gaze flickered up to him, wondering if he was going to say it. “But I got it done.” That was the final straw, and my body sagged, done fighting for today. For a while at least.

                _He took credit for you work_! My inner voice shrieked. I cringed. Yes, he did. But what am I going to do? If I say anything, I’ll seem like a spoiled brat and will probably get fired.

                “Good good. Miss Harrow. I congratulate you for sending it to me on time.”

                “Thank you, Mr. Vaun.” It was a simple knee-jerk reaction, but my voice sounded weak. My mind was in New York. I was sitting in a high back chair in a fancy dining room. It was now an event of soft smiles and polite gestures while old men raised their hands up my skirts.

                “Did you do anything in it. I told John to let you do some things. You are an intern after all.” It’s like he knew of the conversation from only a few moments ago.

                “Not much sir. I just…” I quickly racked my brain, hoping to sound somewhat internship like. “double checked the maths in finance. Called the models. Made sure the slide was running. Nothing too major.” Mr. Till nodded in affirmation. Bastard. I glared at him, my mind conjuring up ways to get away with murder.

                The meeting was short and sweet until everyone got up and headed to another room. It was big and open, all black and white and formal to the extreme. A long table resided along the wall with the windows that looked towards the river. A small photo shoot set was set up on one side of the room.

                “This room is…?”

                “For callbacks. Model searches. Nothing major. These models have to be wonderful. I oh so hope you didn’t mess this up.”

                _I say we kill him,_ my inner voice harped. I didn’t argue against that thought.

                As soon as we got everything set up, models came in one by one, first walking then posing, then going over to the small set and posing for the camera that someone else was shooting. I was stuck next to Till, writing down everything he said like it was Law.

                _That should be me._ I thought sadly. Maybe one day…

                _Don’t even think about it. You have to be able to take care of yourself properly first._ My subconscious mocked. Sometimes I just wished she’s shut up.

 

The day was long and exhausting. Between the taunting thoughts of my subconscious and the snide remarks from Mr. Till, I had my fair share of mental abuse. It was noon when we finished all the models, and it took another two hours to debate over who would be good. We ended up calling Mr. Vaun after sending him the pictures. He, of course, got mad, saying he was busy - and then the blame was put on me.

                To say the least, I was done for one day and I was ready to go home. When everyone called it quits for the day, I gathered my stuff up as quickly as I could and booked it out of there. It wasn’t until I opened up the door to my flat that I fell onto the floor, and let the tears fall.

                _You can’t take anything, can you_? My subconscious hissed.

                “No,” I whispered.

                _You’ve been through so much…_ My inner voice whispered in contrast.

                “I know.”

                _You’ve been through so much worse, you-_ But before my subconscious could finish, my inner voice cut in.

                _So you can handle this. Do what you do best_. My eyes fell on my bag that rested on my lap. Wiping my tears quickly, I opened it up and saw my camera resting prettily in it. With a small, almost forced smile I lifted it up and snapped one of my Converse. Then of the living room. My legs, the stairs. Anything in view.

                I took a picture of myself. Then deleted it.

                Quickly I stood and headed back out the door, my SIM card ready. Walking around London, I managed to somewhat relax. The ache on the back of my neck eased. My shoulders no longer hunched and my strides became more certain. Even my subconscious didn’t have a snide remark to spit out while I was about London.

                Walking along the river, I took pictures of the river, and the boats, the bridges, the people. People were always my favorite by the river. They always seemed happy. Even the people by themselves seemed content with their lives. I’d be content too, just sitting by the river all day…

                But I didn’t. I headed home after a stop at Prufrock. Once I locked the front door, I headed upstairs, starting up my laptop and put my iPod on the dock. Blasting The Chromatics, I settled onto my vibrant bed, and started on my pictures. Mostly, I just hoped that the bright colors of this room and the comfort of my pictures would help ease the anxiety that continued to build up over the day.

                _Call him_ , my inner voice eventually snapped, annoyed by my persistent checking of my phone. But whenever I checked it, it was the same background of sparkles that wrote out _dreamer_. And if I unlocked it, it would be a picture of Avena and me from last Christmas in Aspen.

                I couldn’t call him. My fingers were unable to properly hit the talk button whenever I tried. I would freeze up and toss my phone back onto my bed, only to retrieve it again after going through a couple of pictures.

                _Don’t be daft. Just do it._ I smirked at that, seeing as the next picture I brought up was a girl working out, wearing a Nike shirt. But before I could think or freak out, I was pressing the green button.

                “Oh hell,” I whispered, realizing what I just did. I could hang up. “Good, good. Hanging up is good.” I was about to when the phone began to ring. “Oh, bloody hell!” I couldn’t sit still and began pacing my bedroom.

                _Don’t be such a little girl._ My subconscious sneered.

                _You did agree to be friends with him. Friends talk. Friend vent to one another_. My inner voice used a different route of encouragement.

                “So, I guess you called.” Harry’s voice sounded over the phone. “But I guess I didn’t answer…”

                “Since you’ve got his answer phone!” Niall’s voice-I think-cut in.

                “I guess, what you could, like, do,” Another one said. It sounded like Zayn.

                “Is leave a message.” A cheery voice finished, reminding me of Liam.

                “Yeah. Do that. Bye.” That was Harry again.

                “He likes cats!” Before the beep went. I quickly hung up.

                “Okay,” I sighed, running my fingers through my brown hair. “What next genius?” Avena, I thought quickly. I dialed her number, but it went straight to the answer phone. Where is she? “Shit.” I fumbled with my phone and it fell to the floor. “Shit, shit.” I picked it up, my hands shaking. Realizing then that my whole body was shaking. I sank to the floor, putting my head between my knees, taking deep breaths.

                When I managed to calm down somewhat, I got up and curled up on my bed, huddling under the covers, letting my mind focus solely on the lyrics of my Ipod that I put my ear buds in. My mind turned hazy and drowsy. Sleep. Sleep was good-

                _No!_

 ----------TRIGGER WARNING-----

                I was standing in a forest, familiar, but still somewhat unknown. Like I’d seen it in a picture before. Looking around, I saw my camera perched on a log. Quickly I retrieved it and began taking pictures. For a while, I didn’t notice anything was off. But it grew darker and dreary, and it was then, I realized that I hadn’t seen one animal, heard no scuttling around the leaves. No wind blew, no whistling between the trees. Lowering the camera, a figure flashed out of the corner of my eye.

                “Hello?” I called to it.

                “Leighton!” I heard the voice shout back.

                “Avena! Where are you?” I immediately began walking in the general direction, my ears straining for some sort of noise.

                “Leighton!” Another voice, this time, deeper, like chocolate and honey. I shivered. What was Harry doing in a forest, though?

                “Guys!” I shouted, realizing the darkening of the forest was quickly ascending. “Where are you?”

                “Here!” But their voices were drifting, farther away. A loud crack sounded behind me, like the breaking of a branch. I whirled around, but saw nothing, but lengthening shadows and darkness. Turning back around, I started walking towards the voices. The walk began to pick up pace as the darkness followed until I was full out sprinting through the woods. I had dropped the camera a while back and I was stumbling over my own feet. Darkness was fully cloaked over me, now, and I couldn’t see my own hand in front of me. I screamed, and shouted their names, but it never got a response. Loud snaps of twigs and crunches of leaves were right behind me.

                “Harry!” I screamed, tripping over a tree root. It sent me sprawling, but I crawled quickly, hurrying to get back standing. I propelled forward, refusing to be a victim again. I had begun running again, my shirt and pants getting snagged on, tearing, my hair catching leaves and branches.

                “Harry!” I shouted again. “Where are you?”

                The noises were right behind me, getting closer, advancing. I tried to look behind me, wildly looking _anywhere_ , hoping, fruitlessly, to see anything in this darkness.

                But there was nothing, only the noises behind me and no one to run to. I stumbled, and whoever it was behind me, gripped my shirt and I was airborne forward, face first into the dirt. My jaw made contact with a rock, scraping against my skin. I screamed, hoping Harry or Avena would hear. But no one did.

                “Stop!” I screamed. “Harry! I need you! I need you! Please!” I shouted over and over, my voice eventually getting weaker as my struggle with this unidentified figure. This was happening again.

                Again.

                It always happens. Bad things always happen in the dark.

 -----END TRIGGER-----

Sputtering, I sat up straight, my body flailing, fighting for light. I made contact with the lamp and turned it one, pale yellow light flooding the room. Wildly, I looked around, seeing nothing out of place. My hair clung to my forehead, damp with cold sweat. My sheets too were soaked with sweat. Checking frantically at my jaw, I found no scrap marks.

                When I was able to catch my breath, I grimaced at the way my pajamas clung to me. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was about four o’clock. Gingerly, almost cautiously, I got up and went towards the shower.

                No way was I going back to sleep.

                Sitting under the showerhead, my mind drifted to that nightmare. It started off as a dream - but then again, they usually did. The nightmare would creep in, subtle, and then pounce when I didn’t stand a chance when I was left alone and abandoned.

                I didn’t think I’d have that nightmare anymore. Not after…

                _Just stop…_ My subconscious had finally stirred, shaking off the shock of the nightmare. _It will never happen_.

                But it was odd, that Harry was in my nightmare. It was usually just Avena, or other times, Nancy. But that was normal, or so she said. I understood those two, but _Harry_? Thinking back to yesterday, I thought about my small nervous breakdown, when no one answered my call. He wasn’t there for me.

                That brought a spark of anger through me. I was frustrated with myself, for having to rely on him of all people to not abandon me. I was just fine with Avena.

                Wasn’t I?

                Not wanting to think about it anymore, I stood on shaky legs and got ready for the day. After my shower, I went to my closet, grabbing my most comfortable skinny jeans, a pink tank that I tucked in, and a grey cardigan. I brushed my hair, and put on a grey and pink striped beanie, and an owl necklace Slipping on brown slouchy ankle boots, and brown fringe bag that I tucked my camera in, I headed out. I could feel the sun fighting to be shown through the clouds as it slowly rose. It was still early, about six, but I couldn’t stay in that flat by myself. It would only end in disaster.

                Slowly, taking my time, and relishing in my makeshift freedom, I headed to the closest café, hoping for a real breakfast. I saw one, just opening, and I gratefully went inside, welcoming the warmth. I settled on a seat by the front window, watching as cars drove past, and people awoke and got busy for the day. I ate a bowl of oatmeal with honey, and a cup of hot chocolate before I headed down to work. Quickly, I thanked God that we were to meet at the North London building today.

                It seemed that people at the headquarters knew I was an omen. Mr. Till picked up on my silent and distant mood and jumped at the chance to order me around. He sent me on errands all over the building, as they discussed the advertisement of this shoot and in the magazine, and then really hustled me about when we worked on tech.

                My phone rang when we finished up, and called it a day. Tomorrow, since we weren’t exactly going on schedule, would be fitting the models that they had me confirm today.

                “Hello?” I asked, not paying attention to who it was.

                “Cheers, love.” Harry’s voice exclaimed.

                “Hi, Harry.”

                “What’s wrong?” He quickly asked.

                “How do you know something’s wrong with me?”

                “You just sound, I don’t know, off, I suppose. _Is_ there something wrong?”

                “No. It’s just stress of work. What’s up?”

                “I was just returning your call. And seeing what you were up to.” I heard a soft chuckle in the background, making me realize he was with the other four.

                “Nothing, just heading to Prufrock, then going home-” A loud screech from the other end of the line made me flinch and then boisterous laughter. “Harry? Styles, what are you doing?”

                “Nothing. Just-nothing. Driving is all.”

                “You sound like a horrid driver.”

                “I’m not so bad. I’m the only one with a license. Well, along with Lou.”

                “Right…” I trailed off, stepping inside the store. “I have to go. I’ll call you later, yeah?”

                “Cheers.”

                “Great.” Though, it sounded like it was anything but. I hung up, placing it in my back pocket, before standing in line. When I got in line, I placed my order of my white chocolate mocha with cinnamon and peppermint.

                “Make that two of that mocha with a couple biscuits, please.” A voice cut in behind me.

                “Hey-” I was _so_ not in the mood today. Whirling around I was prepared to put the man on blast, but was cut short by the vibrant emerald green eyes. They held me for a long moment before I could blink and turn back around. The barista raised an eyebrow at me.

                “Yeah, sure.” I nodded. I went to pay, but his hand came into view, causing me to flinch in surprise. When it was paid, we stepped aside to wait at the other counter.

                “What the bloody hell are you doing here?” I hissed at him, glaring up into his green eyes. He easily towered over me, his present slightly intimidating. He wore a dark blue, almost black sweater, the hood up, covering his curls - but they kept falling out, and he had to continuously push them back under the hood.

                “Coincidence, I think, love.” He shrugged.

                “Don’t call me that.” I snapped.

                He sighed. “Here we go again…”

                “Here we go again? What’s that supposed to mean?”

                “Careful, love, you’re American accent’s breaking through.” He teased, his lips stretching into a grin, dimples showing. I huffed, crossing my arms.

                “You’re so... Just so…-”

                “So what?”

                “You act all chuffed up, and intriguing and charming, and quite frankly, I think it’s annoying!”

                “You think I’m charming?” I watched as his lips dipped into a smirk.

                “You’re an arse.” I turned back around, refusing to look at him.

                “Spend the day with me.” He asked, his hands resting on the counter on either side of me, effectively blocking me.

                “How about no? I have things to do.”

                “Like go back to your flat? Yeah, I know. You told me that. You can do that later. Do you really want to go home?” The words sent a sharp pang through me, making me think of the nightmare last night. No, actually, I didn’t want to go home.

                “Fine.” I relented. “But you piss me off just _once_ , and I’m leaving.”

                “Deal.” He grabbed the treats and tray off coffee and followed me out the door.

                “Where to?” I asked.

                “I parked my Range Rover ‘round back.” He led me, keeping his head down.

                “You look ridiculous,” I commented, grabbing my drink.

                “Do you want people to follow us?” He remarked.

                “Oh?”

                “Lots of people. With camera’s usually.”

                “Oh.” I flushed. No way did I want my picture being taken.

                “Here.” He led to me his car, opening the passenger side door for me. I quietly thanked him, placing my drink in the cup holder in the console, and waited patiently for him to get into the driver’s side. I gazed at him, curious as to why he had a Cheshire grin on his lips.

                “Styles…?” I asked, unsure.

                _“BOO_!” Four voices shouted in my ear. I let out a scream, my upper body flinging forward, my hands going over my head. My body froze, waiting for some sort of pain or… _something_. I began shaking, not being able to handle this. I could hear the boy’s laughing, until one by one they dropped out.

                “Lads, I think something’s wrong.” One of them said. Liam, I think.

                “Leighton.” Harry touched my back. I flinched away, shooting back up, scrambling to move away from him. “Leighton, what’s wrong?”

                “It was a joke,” Niall said.

                “We didn’t mean to scare you, love.”

                I shook my head violently, “Don’t call me that.”

                “It’s a British thing, really.” Harry reasoned. “What’s wrong? It was just meant to be a joke. We didn’t mean to scare you.”

                I stared at the four boys in the backseat, watching as worry set in their eyes.

                “I don’t think she found it funny,” Louis commented.

                “No, I didn’t,” I whispered. With shaky hands, I gripped my bag, feeling my camera.

                “Honest, Leila,” Harry said, his eyes a genuine green, filled with concern. “We didn’t mean anything by it.”

                “It’s fine…” I blinked away the nightmare, and the memories, grabbing for my coffee. “I’m fine.”

                “Sorry, lass,” Niall apologized.

                “I’m okay,” I said after a sip. “Honest.”

                “Okay,” But they continued to give me a scrutinizing look. I turned to face the windscreen, putting on my seatbelt.

                “Where are we going?” I asked.

                “Back to our flat,” Harry grinned at me.

                “Brill.” I nodded in affirmation. He revved the engine, passing the biscuits to Niall.

                “How have you been, other than a moment ago?” Liam started a conversation.

                “Good. Fine.”

                “How did your presentation go?” Harry glanced at me, his eyes holding mine for a moment.

                “Till took all the credit for it,” I mumbled.

                “What?” His voice got a little louder and a lot deeper, sounding annoyed and unhappy. A frown etched the corners of his pink lips. “You spent all day on that. Did you tell Vaun?”

                “No.” I sighed, “I’m just an intern. He’s just going to think of me as annoying and bothersome. Most likely get fired, and I don’t need that.”

                “But you can’t just let him get the credit for all your hard work.” He reasoned.

                I shrugged, “It’s no big deal, I’m fine. It was just one thing.”

                “Is that why you called yesterday? To tell me?” I just shrugged again, looking out the window.

                “That was our fault.” Louis chuckled. “We stole his phone.”

                “And prank called tons of people,” Zayn added, high-fiving Louis.

                “Thanks for that, by the way.” Harry chuckled, pulling to a stop at a red light.

                “That one fit sounding girl was fun.”

                “She said she was married.” Liam cut in. “I didn’t partake in that.”

                “You’re the one that distracted him!” Niall protested. I giggled at their antics.

                “But I didn’t call anyone.” He smirked.

                “No just sent me on a wild chase for what…?”

                “Bacon flavored chapstick.”

                “What?” I sputtered out, choking slightly on my coffee. “What on earth were you boys’ doing?”

                “We were at the supermarket, and we took Harry’s phone, and left the store while Liam sent him around the store to look for things that clearly weren’t there,” Louis explained proudly. “It was brilliant, really. You should have seen it.”

                I shook my head, laughing at them.

                “I’m going to drive up the road,” Harry cut in. I could see his dimples as he grinned. “I’ll let you out there. The fans can get a little…”

                “I’d rather not be in magazines, thanks. How will I know where to go?”

                “A bodyguard of ours. Not Paul, though. He’s busy. His name’s Jonathon. He’ll take you back.”

                “Okay.” He parked at a curb, turning to me. The five boys grinned at me, and I couldn’t resist taking pictures. After a couple, I scrambled out and watched as the car turned around, and zoomed back up the road.

                “Miss Harrow?” I turned, seeing a really tall, lean, dark-haired man, leaning against a lamp post.

                “Jonathon, I take it?”

                “Yes, ma’am.” He gave a fleeting grin, before leading me back to the direction of the boys flat.  He was silent the whole way back, and I kept pace easily. I was thankful, that he wasn’t as intimidating as Paul seemed to be, and seemed at ease with everything.

                “There you go. Through that door, up to the third story. I’m sure you’ll know,” He smiled once again.

                “Thank you… Is this normal?” I couldn’t help but ask.

                He shrugged. “Better get used to it, that’s all.” I furrowed my eyebrows, confused. He gave me a questioning look, causing me to flush and scurry towards the door.

                “Did you like Jonathon?” Niall jumped down a couple steps, meeting me halfway. “Harry sent me down to get you.”

                “Sure.” I shrugged. “As much as any girl can like a bodyguard that she doesn’t know.”

                “Right.” He chuckled. “Well anyways. This is Louis and Hazza’s flat.” He opened the door, leading me into a hallway. The left branched into one room that I saw was dining room, living room combination.  “Bathroom there.” He pointed at a closed door on the right end of the hallway. “Bedrooms just down the end of the hall here,” He pointed further down the hall., “And the living room.” He led me into it, where all the boys were relaxing either on the couch or the floor.

                “What took you so long?” Harry teased.

                “I got distracted by all the girls outside, fangirling.” I shot back.

                “Are you okay?”

                I raised an eyebrow. “I’m fine. But thanks for the concern.” I settled into a comfy looking chair.

                “I’m ordering take out.” Niall reached for the phone. “What does everyone want?”

 

“Wait,” I sputtered out, wiping away a tear. “You actually believed it? That she was going to give birth?”

                “It was very believable!” Harry protested. Despite his grin, he was turning an adorable shade of pink. “She acted as if she was really in labor.”

                “So Louis and Zayn, they just left? And Liam went to call someone? And Niall... How could you just do nothing?”

                He shrugged. “Serious skill.” He said, rolling his shoulders. I laughed again.

                “That was brilliant. I wish I could have seen that.”

                “You can!” Louis shot up, going down the hall. Harry groaned.

                “Where’s he going?” I asked, taking a bite at my orange chicken.

                “Getting his laptop.”

                “Wait! There’s an actual video of this?!”

                “Prank with the help of Nickelodeon,” Zayn grinned, clearly proud of what he and Louis pulled off.

                “Ta-da!” Louis placed a silver laptop on my lap. The screen had a video loading on it. The other four scrambled to stand around me as I watched this. The longer I watched it, the harder I laughed, and the more tears leaked out.

                “Oh.. My gosh. That was absolutely brilliant! You two are geniuses!”

                “Thank you.” Louis did an exaggerated bow while Zayn just smiled. I chuckled again, setting the laptop on the coffee table.

                “So, what else?”

                “Let’s see…” Liam leaned back on the couch. “We told Niall we broke his guitar once.”

                “That wasn’t even remotely funny.” Niall shook his head.

                “You play guitar?” My eyes lit up.

                “Yep.” He grinned. “You?”

                “No.” I shook my head. “But I’ve always wanted to. Beverly always said it was a hobby thing and that I should focus on what was important.”

                “Photography?” Harry nodded to my camera that I was fiddling with. Well, fiddling being a loose term. I was taking pictures of the boys when they weren’t looking.

                “No.” I shook my head, frowning slightly. “On society problems. On passing in high school top of the class, on being a Renaissance women in cultural topics. On being diverse in every aspect. Perfect trophy wife.”

                “You didn’t want that?”

                “Nope.” I popped the ‘P’. “I rebelled and refused to do that. No way was I going to let anyone stand in the way of what I wanted.” Well, after I figured out what I wanted.

                “I can teach you.” Niall offered.

                “Hm?” I glanced up at him, ending my train of thought.

                “I can teach you to play guitar if you’d like.”

                “Really?” I grinned. My childlike excitement swelled inside me. It was like when I captured my first good picture.

                “Really.” He nodded.  
                “Thanks!” But when I glanced over at Harry, he was looking between us two. I lifted my camera just as he looked at me, his green eyes piercing with an unknown emotion. I took it before I lost focus. Turning to the other boys, I snapped pictures of them, trying desperately to regain my equilibrium.

                “So do you guys play any instruments?”

                “I play the piano!” Louis nearly shouted. I giggled at his childlike antics. Really all of them have acted like that today. Just watching them relax on the couch, joking and laughing, poking fun at each other, it made me forget that they were actually famous.

                “I’m proud of you, boobear.” I teased.

                He narrowed his eyes. “Watch it, Leila. Only one woman can call me that.”

                I narrowed my eyes in return. “Watch it, Tommo. Only one man can call me that.” We stared at each other for a long moment, before laughing. They continued to poke fun, and I excused myself to the bathroom.

                Curiosity got the best of me, however, when I glanced at the entrance to the kitchen. Peeking over my shoulder, I heard boisterous laughter from the living room. I wandered into the kitchen, sneaking a peek., when I saw the other entrance into the kitchen from the living room was closed. It was a normal kitchen, with cabinets and cupboards. A fridge and stove. Even a door that opens to the utility room. The pictures on the fridge peeked my interest, though, and I walked towards them.

                I saw pictures of a gorgeous brunette standing next to Louis, their eyes lit up, holding each other tight. His girlfriend, I decided. Other pictures were of the boys, a calendar with dates circled and marked up. Some photos of what I assumed were family. _Wow_ , I thought, _four sisters_ … One picture, though, struck me, as I stared at it. It was the picture I took only a few days ago.

                _Was it really only four days ago?_ Whoa… It seemed so long ago when I took these pictures with him. It was the picture Harry said was his favorite, us pointing at each other, animated expressions on our faces.

                “I thought you got lost.” A deep voice said behind me. I jumped, whirling around, spotting dark curls and vibrant green eyes. Over his shoulder, the door was open and I could see the rest of them in the living room, all of them acting as if they weren’t really paying attention to us.

                “Sorry…” I flushed. “I was thirsty… Got distracted by your photos.”

                “Oh.” He strolled over and pointed out who was who in the pictures. Overall I was right.

                “You have a picture of me.” I deadpanned.

                “I do. I have pictures with all my friends.”

                “I just sent it to you, on Monday.”

                “Yep. It’s Wednesday now, love. I got it yesterday and put it up.” He flashed a cheeky grin.

                “Right…”

                “Do you find that weird?” He asked, opening the fridge, grabbing a bottle of flavored water, passing it to me.

                “Extremely.”

                “I guess you’ll just have to live with it.”

                I let out an exaggerated sigh. “I guess so…”

                “So,” He hesitated.

                “Hm?”

                “ _Are_ we friends this time? For real?”

                I opened my mouth, only to snap it close again. _Don’t be stupid!_ My subconscious shouted at me. _Answer the man_.

                “Yeah. For real.” It was a knee-jerk reaction. I was used to answering automatically when my subconscious snapped at me. But when I answered his question, seeing the dimple-inducing grin on his face, it sent relief through me, causing me to blush and duck my head.

                “Great.” He led me back to the living room, where we settled in for a movie and random questions.

 

“Thanks,” I spoke first. Harry had dropped me off at my flat, walking me inside, going-somehow-unnoticed.

                “For what?”

                “Inviting me over today.” I hung my bag on the hook, took out my camera and walked it over to the kitchen bar.

                “No problem. The boys really enjoyed it.” He sat on a barstool.

                “Do you want some tea?” I asked. He nodded. “Did they?”

                “Yep. Good thing, too. I was nervous they might not.”

                “Why?” I turned around, suspicion flaring up in me.

                “ _That’s_ why. You get mad and defensive sometimes. But you were really calm and funny and-” He stopped, running his fingers through his curls.

                “Oh.” I ducked my head, going back to making tea. “Right.”

                “Anyways, I wanted to invite you over. You sounded off on the phone.”

                “So you admit meeting me at Prufrock _wasn’t_ a coincidence?”

                He nodded his head while saying, “No.” I chuckled. “What was wrong today?” The question knocked the smile off my face, though.

                “Nothing, it was nothing….” We stood in silence for a long while, while the tea grew hot, then began whistling. I poured the tea, adding milk to Harry’s.

                “Leila.” He urged.

                “Why do you call me that?” I asked.

                He shrugged. “Nickname I came up with, I suppose. Why? Do you not like it?”

                “I don’t know, I’ve never had a nickname before. Everyone’s just called me Leighton.” We lapsed into silence again.

                “What’s on your mind?”

                “Why didn’t you want the paparazzi to see me with you guys?” I demanded, my mind conjuring up this afternoon’s avoidance of any sort of camera-well besides mine. “Do you not want to be seen with me?”

                “No! I’m doing it to protect you. Why the sudden Spanish Inquisition?”

                “It’s just a question Styles. One that you won’t answer.”

                “I did it because I didn’t think you’d be so comfortable in the limelight yet. It gets hectic, and I just wanted you to be comfortable with us before anything happened. For you to trust us, before rumors spread.”

                “What type of rumors?” I finally asked.

                “Rumors on which one of us your dating. Who you don’t like and argue with, who you like the most, why you're really friends with us, how you met us. Then there are repulsive things.”

                “Like what?”

                “I’d rather you not know.”

                “Are you embarrassed to be my friend?”

                “No!” He sighed. “Leighton, this isn’t high school anymore. This is real. It’s not like the whole level will see who your friends with. If you publicly admit your friends with us, you will be out there for the world to see. I just… I want you safe first. I want you to be confident in our friendship, in knowing the lads before anything happens.”

                “Right…” I nodded. “Okay, sure.” Taking a sip of my tea, I examined him. He was leaning over the bar, his eyes intent, hands around his mug. “So you're not embarrassed?”

                “If I knew you were ready, I’d take you outside now, and dance in the middle of the street.” I laughed at that.

                “Okay. I believe you.”

                “Ace. Now tell me why you were in an upset mood today, and why you were genuinely petrified when the lads scared you.”

                I sighed, staring into my mug. I watched as steam lifted up, swirling around the rim, before traveling up, dancing and swaying, until it disappeared.

                “I had a nightmare…” I whispered.

                “Okay. Nightmares happen to everyone, love. It’s okay, it’s not true.”

                I shook my head, “Not this one. It was real.”

                “Real, how?” I just shrugged. Coming from around the bar, he took my hand. I let out a small gasp, feeling a shock run up my arm, leaving my fingertips tingling. He led me to the couch, sitting down, dragging me down next to him. I curled up, tucking my feet under me, facing him.

                “I called you yesterday because I had a bad day.” No need to tell him I hear negative voices all day. “And when you didn’t answer, I called Avena.”

                “Right.” He nodded for me to continue.

                “But she didn’t answer either. I had an anxiety attack…”

                “Why?”

                I shrugged. “I get them sometimes. When I feel like there’s no one there. And then when I went to bed last night, I had a nightmare. I was in a forest, and I heard you and Avena. You were calling to me. I went to find you, but your voice was getting farther away. It was getting dark, so dark I couldn’t see anything. I kept calling for you, but you didn’t respond. There was someone behind me, chasing after me. I started running, trying to get away from him, trying to find you. But I could never seem to get far enough. I woke up when he tackled me to the ground.”

                He was silent for a long time. “Leila…”

                “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you.” I shook my head, wiping my eyes viciously, pressing my fingers down so hard, I knew they would leave red marks for a while.

                “No, no. I’m glad you did. Friends talk, right? I’m glad you told me. I’m sorry I didn’t answer your phone call. But I will be there for you. If you ever need someone or something, I am here. You even know where I live now, so you can find me there. Leave a message or blow up my phone with texts next time. Bother me until I answer. I don’t want you to have that nightmare again, just because you think no one will be here for you. I am. And I’m sure Avena’s told you the same thing.”

                “Thanks, Harry.” I leaned forward, wrapping my arms around him. He hugged me back, squeezing me tight, and I was engulfed in an enchanting smell. I took one last deep breath, smelling something familiar along with leather and musk, before pulling away.

                “Anytime.” He grinned at me, flashing me his dimples. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

                “Nope.” I shook my head, feeling a weight lift off me somewhat.

                _Liar!_ My subconscious sneered. _Tell him! Tell him_ now!

                _Tell him when your ready_ , my inner voice reasoned. I smiled in a small relief that she was there.

                “Good. I should probably be going, though. The lads might wonder where I am.”

                “Right.” I walked him towards my door, opening it for him.

                “I’m glad your okay now, Leighton.” He hugged me once more, lifting me off the floor, before walking down the steps to his car. I waved goodbye once, standing there until his car was gone, a lamppost shining a yellow light on where his car just was.

                I cleaned up the mugs, setting them in the dishwasher, and headed upstairs. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep with no lights on, so I plugged in my fairy lights. Some part of me grew frustrated. I hadn’t needed them in a long while. My nightmare hadn’t reoccurred until recently, though. I hadn’t had the need for them.

                I realized, curling into my bed after getting ready for bed, that my subconscious hadn’t tortured me until late this evening. No negative thoughts protruded my mind while with Harry. I accepted that notion, grinning, hoping that maybe he was doing me some good.

                Just as I was falling asleep, my phone buzzed. I unlocked my phone, to see a message from Harry.

               

_Sleep well. I’ll be here if you need anything. Xx_

 

I didn’t have a nightmare that night. In fact, that night, I had slept the soundest since I moved in last week. Maybe this boy was doing me some good after all…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, wow okay. So that went somewhere. Getting Leighton to admit anything is like pulling teeth I swear!  
> Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed this last tidbit. Leighton is a slow burn and then full force kinda gal, so bare with her. Also, her angsty shit will get worse and worse before it gets any better. They all get a little bit worse, I'm not going to lie.  
> Coming up in the next part of this adventure: You get to look into the life of Avena, crazy best friend and (sort of) famous whose who. Leighton meets Simon and hears them all sing officially.  
> In regards to this last chapter, if you felt any sort of discomfort or it hit too close to home, I'm always here (been through some things myself, so I'm 100% understanding).  
> Comment, kudos, bookmark, do what you please!  
> Much love, always,  
> Rikkibabyy -xx


	10. Oh la la

“Morning, Mr. Vaun.” I greeted the short French man, a relieved smile spreading across my lips. Joyously I handed him his tea. I have never been happier to see him. Yesterday, Thursday, Mr. Till had been his worst. He sent me on wild goose chases, all over the building and throughout London, yelling at me whenever he saw fit - so pretty much all the time. I bit my tongue all day, not wanting to lash out and prove his statement right. I was not immature nor spoiled.

                “Miss Harrow.” He gave me a slightly confused look before taking the drink. “How has everything been this week?” I noticed people around him stopped what they were doing to peer at me, to see how I was going to answer.

                _Of course. You’re always the one people have to be careful of._ My subconscious griped at me. She hadn’t shut up since yesterday morning, usually siding with Mr. Till, while the tiny, hushed like voice all but disappeared on me.

                “This week went great. Mr. Till gave me so much to learn, and such. I followed an assistant around yesterday,” I ad-libbed, nerves spiking down my spine as I grabbed the ends of my curled brown hair, “It was brill. Everyone has been so welcoming and encouraging while you were away in Madrid.”

                “Good, good.” Delight lighted up in his eyes, clearly pleased. I simply smiled.

                _Are you done with your lies yet?_ My subconscious sneered. I bit my tongue to keep from snapping back a retort. Honestly, I’ve gotten to the point where I’m talking back to myself, surely I’m full on crazy.

                “Miss Harrow.” Mr. Till walked up just then. His eyes cut through me, but I held his gaze, giving myself a small pat on the back when I didn’t back down.

                “She’s been telling me about all the progress you’ve made this week. Good. When will the models be here, John?”

                “She has, has she?” He shot me a look before replying to his question. “Any minute now, sir.”

                “Leighton!” A voice shrilled. I cringed slightly, not expecting it at all.

                “McKenna!” I cheered, turning to see the tall, blond, and drop dead gorgeous 21-year-old run towards me. How can she run in those heels? But again, they were ankle boots - surprise there.

                “I’ve missed you!” Her arms flew around me - _that_ took me by surprise. “How was everything here? Oh, I’m sure it was absolutely brilliant! What have I missed? Madrid was amazing. I wish you were there.”

                “I had an amazing opportunity here,” I flashed a smile towards Mr. Till. “You’ll have to tell me all about Madrid.”

                “How long do you think this shoot will be?” McKenna asked Vaun.

                “All day. We’re bringing in a luncheon - which I need you to check on-” He directed me, “But it shouldn’t be that well into the afternoon.” 

                “Good!” She turned to me, clapping quickly three times like she usually does when she’s excited. “We should catch up tonight.”

                “I have plans after work.” I apologized. “Tomorrow?”

                “Ace!” She beamed. “I have to go check in with Elizabeth. I’ve honestly missed you this past week. It’s been nice having someone who understands around.” She winked at me, then flashed a smile at Vaun who just chuckled.

                “Yeah. It’s been a dream.” I automatically replied. She hurried down the hall to the fitting rooms, and I went upstairs to make the calls.

 

Walking down the street, and into the parks, I couldn’t help but think about what McKenna had said. She said she had missed me. Did she actually, or was she just saying that? Restlessness grew inside me, making my skin itchy, thinking about how uncomfortable the uncertainty of this situation made me. I hated to admit I could use a friend. I wasn’t lacking in people that I know in London, quite a few people from New York have travelled to England, London more specifically, and I know all it would take was for me to ring them up, and be back where I started. But I couldn’t go back to where I started. I paled thinking of what could happen out here, on my own. No, I needed to make more friends, and McKenna seemed like a great fit.

                _Sounded genuine to me._ My inner voice softly encouraged.

                _Maybe she was taking pity._ My subconscious garbed. I ignored it, raising my camera, snapping a few pictures. It was still pretty early, the sun just setting - a rarity to see it, since it rained practically all day today. I could tell that I was getting deeper into Chelsea, seeing the homes grow bigger and more fancy, adding a level of sophistication to the borough.

                But she wants to get together with me and hang out…

                _Maybe it’s so she can get to Harry._ If my subconscious could smile, it would be outfitting the most sinister and menacing smirk on its face. The idea shot through me, sharp and hot, causing my camera to slip through my limp fingers, the strap bouncing against my neck.

                _Don’t be silly,_ my inner voice reassured. _She doesn’t know you two are friends. For all she knows you had a flirting thing going on that first week._

                It was only last week. Holy crap. It _was_ only last week. I quickly think back to the days. Yep, only a week ago, I had hated Harry’s guts, not caring whether or not he cared, and now we were friends, and he _did_ care. The thought sent a shiver up my spine and placed a small smile on my lips.

                _Can you handle going out with McKenna_? My subconscious just could not see me happy for one moment. But I contemplated the thought. Could I? Sure, if I avoided the nightlife of London.

                So no, probably not.

                But I couldn’t just cancel on her. I was just started to make friends - okay well, _one_ friend, but still. That was one more than what I had before. That thought resonated throughout my system, sending a slightly unpleasant feeling through my limbs. If I truly wanted that again, I could ring up _those_ friends.

                _You never had friends in New York. Only people you-_

 _Friends are good. Friends help you cope._ my inner voice cut her off. I agreed with her. It was decided then. I was going out with McKenna tomorrow night whether I would regret it or not.

                Just as I silently confirmed that thought, I was walking up the steps to a familiar white house. Not bothering to knock, I stepped inside, slipping off my Steve Madden’s and heading into the main hall.

                “Hello?” I shouted. “Anyone home?” I saw a flash of red hair, before she collided into me, causing me to stumble back. I automatically wrapped my arms around her, hugging her tight.

                “Hey!” She cheered. “What are you doing here?”

                “I came to visit, obviously. What are you up to?” While I decided on becoming friends with McKenna, I knew I had a safe place here in this house, in this girl’s arms. Avena was all fiery hair and bright green eyes. She had too many freckles for anyone to take her seriously and she had a habit of thinking she was Irish – she was born up north and lived in New York until she turned 17. I met Avena our first day of the sixth grade. Her dad had her switched schools to St. Mary’s because they ‘didn’t push her to her best abilities’, which I always thought was dumb and told her that her face. She stared at me for practically a minute before laughing and sitting next to me on the bench for morning gathering before classes started. I remember her wrinkling her freckle speckled nose, patting my hand and said: _“You and I. We’ll turn the world upside.”_

                “Nothing. I was just getting a munch. Want?” Avena brought me back to the present. I nodded and we headed towards the back of the house where the kitchen resides, past the round wooden table, with a fake potted plant in the center, and an off white plush chair in the corner in the otherwise empty entrance hall. Down the caramel colored hall and into the super modern kitchen, I sank down on a barstool at the curved island.

                “What’s for munches?” I asked, accepting a glass of water.

                “I don’t know…” She looked around the room, seeming a little lost. I furrowed my eyebrows, watching her as she maneuvered, awkwardly, around the kitchen, opening cabinets that were meant for glasses or plates or silverware.

                “Love?” I asked, concerned now. “Where’s your housekeeper?” I realized just then, that I hadn’t seen her housekeeper. Avena has never in her life had to look for food in her kitchen.

                “Mummy fired her.” She shrugged, finding the snack cupboard next to the fridge.

                “Oh?” I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Her housekeeper was nice, never minding that I came over at random times, like the housekeeper before her… Oh. “Did your dad have an affair with her?”

                “It’s always the same. I swear, mummy hired the pretty ones just to see dad get weak and shag them, just so she has a reason to be pissed off and fly off to who knows where.”

                “Do you know this time?”

                “Where she went? Yeah. She went to Aspen with her Rich Bitch Club.” She snorted. It was her nickname for the association her mom belonged to of women who had rich husbands and had nothing better to do but gloat about it.

                “I wonder if Beverly’s with her.”

                “Probably.” She shrugged, pulling out a giant box of Cheez-Its. “Either way, it’s none of my business. What those two do in their spare time in of no concern of mine - until I have a little sibling that spitting up all over the place.”

                “You sure you’re okay with it?” I asked, my eyes locking with hers, looking for any sign of doubt or stress or _something_. But of course, I didn’t find it. I never found it with her. She was always the strong one out of us. My mood quickly plummeted, thinking of this. Whenever anything remotely bad happened, she handled it with grace and courage and a strength I couldn’t understand.

                Me, well I just end up fucking everything up.

                “Oh, hey!” Avena glanced at the designer clock on the wall. “It’s time that I record my web show, yeah? C’mon, love.” She grabbed the snack, and I grabbed our drinks following her back towards the front of the house, past the round table and up the spiral richly carpeted staircase to the third floor where her room rested.

                She swung open the white French doors to her room, revealing a pale purple, almost lilac-colored walls, with white, glass, and chrome decorated around the room. A white shelving along the curved wall in the alcove of her room where her white four poster bed resided. A white couch in the middle of the room, with two white chairs, a glass and chrome coffee table between them. A glass and chrome desk on one side of the room, and a set of glass and chrome French doors that enter into her extraordinary closet.

                “Do you want to be in it?” She asked over her shoulder, grabbing her laptop off her bed. I shook my head, my mouth growing dry. I looked anywhere but her, so she wouldn’t see the fear that sparked in my eyes. But I knew she knew that it was there.

                _Afraid of a little camera?_ My subconscious sneered. I cringed. _Of course, you are. You know everyone will think such bad things about you. It will just be like home._

                New York was not home.

                _Deep breathes. Your starting over._ My inner voice soothed. I took a deep breath and took a picture of Avena as she set up her laptop on the coffee table. After settling onto the couch, she pressed a button and smiled at the screen.

                Her smile was off.

                “Hello, my gorgeous followers. It is Friday and boy; do I have news for you!” She sighed and her eyes widened. “First off, my parents are completely duff. My dad was caught with our housekeeper. Again. Go figure. I swear…” She went on a rant for about five minutes discussing how idiotic the whole situation was.

                “Okay…” She took a deep breath, then beamed once again at the camera. _Wow,_ I thought. _She’s really good at this._ No matter how many times I sit here and watch her - which is just about every Friday night over the summer -it never cedes to amaze me on how natural she is on camera.

                “Moving on. Before I go into my new makeup haul, I have some questioning news. As you all know, I’m a slight,” She coughed out “Major,” before continuing, “One Direction fan, and I don’t like delving into their personal lives, because as hot as they are, I don’t care what kind of socks they work on that one Tuesday when the sun was shining just right.” She rolled her eyes “ _But_ ,” My head shot up towards her, her collection of ‘Around-The-World-Artifacts’ forgotten. “This has been circulating around and I just _cannot_ ignore this. Did you Directioners hear!” She practically squealed. “There’s a _mystery_ woman! How exciting is that? It was reported just yesterday that Harry was spotted Wednesday night with some girl. And Thursday he was sporting the beanie.”

                Whoa, wait. Wednesday night? What beanie?

                “What does the beanie mean?” I blurted it out. She paused her recording.

                “Oh, well whenever Harry hooks up with a girl within twenty-four hours, he wears a beanie.”

                “Oh,” I mumbled. She nodded, going back to her show. What the fuck?

                “From the source, it says she seemed super fit. But she said she only got an outline of her. What does this mean? It means we need to go full out and find out who she is. She can’t just hide out forever. I mean, if she’s important to our Hazza, then she’s important to us right?”

                I studied her for a moment, stunned. Was it really that simple?

                She laughed. “Who am I kidding? She has to follow the rules, doesn’t she? Does she get along with the boys? Has she met the girlfriends? Did she meet Uncle Simon? And why can’t we know who she is? Is he ashamed of her? Because last night, he was seen leaving a bar with some blond-who by the way, was wearing the same shirt I own, so guess what I’m returning? Who does this girl think she is? We can’t just let this go so easily. So I need my ever so lovely millions of Directioners on here to help me solve this need to know case!”

                Oh shit.

                Just then my phone vibrated in my shorts pocket. I unlocked my phone to look at the message when there was a loud shout, followed by booming laughter and a high pitched keening noise. I jumped, dropping my phone, it landing on the white carpet with a soft thud. The noise continued to play, getting louder. Avena paused her recording, gazing at me curiously.

                I picked it up. “Leighton!” A voice said, imitating a ghost. Oh jeez. I rolled my eyes, going back to the message.

                “I’ll be in the hall,” I said to a now suspicious Avena. Her penetrating blue-grey eyes followed me to the door, and I had a feeling staring at the door, waiting for me to come back. “What the bloody hell, Styles...” I whispered, looking at the video he sent. The image made me laugh.

                He was close up to the camera, his nose nearly pressed against it. He pulled away revealing four other boys fighting for screen time. They started making noises, their faces contorting into funny facial expressions.

                “Leighton!” He said. “You’ve been summoned!” I rolled my eyes.

                “You’ve been ordered, by the Gods of One Direction Land, to come hither,” Louis added.

                “Free us of our boredom.” Zayn continued.

                “We miss your cheery face!” Liam said with a grin. I chuckled.

                “Bring food!” Niall cut in before the screen went blank. A new message popped up.

 

Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go, peasant! We don’t have all day. Bring food. And drinks. Oh, and your cheery smile!

               

                I swear, these boys… I pressed the call button, bringing the phone to my ear.

                “Oh, Leighton. How nice of you to call.” Harry exaggerated.

                “Where are you boys at?” I asked, leaning over the bannister that looked down into the entrance hall two floors below.

                “Studio. We’re supposed to record today, but we’re pretty much going over lyrics.”

                “Sounds like fun.” I teased.

                “I’m sure it’s better than what you're doing.”

                “I’m sure it is.” I laughed. “I’m at Avena’s. She doing a YouTube video.”

                “Oh… Are you still going to come?”

                “How am I supposed to get there without people knowing?”

                “Jonathon of course. He’ll be there in a few.”

                I sighed, looking at the door. _She’s your best friend. Her parents are in a fight. She needs you._ My inner voice argued gently.

                _Yeah, but did she answer the phone when you had a nightmare. Did she ever call you back like Harry did?_

                The idea struck me. No, she never did call me back. She never sought out to see what was wrong with me.

                “-Leila?” Harry cut into my brooding.

                “Yeah, um, hold on a minute.” I went to the door, opening it to see her ranting anew into the camera. She saw me, paused for a fraction of a second then paused her recording.

                “Alright?” She asked.

                “I just got a call from work. Do you mind…?” I trailed off.

                “Oh, no. Go to work. It’s better than me ranting. What do they need you for?”

                I shrugged. “Following Vaun around. As usual. No big deal. I’m sorry. You’ll be okay, though, right love?”

                “Oh sure. Don’t worry about me.” Avena got up, flicking her red hair over her shoulder and hugged me. “It was nice seeing you. I’ll see you Sunday, yeah?”

                “Maybe. I don’t know. I’ll have to check with Vaun.” I lied. Truth is, I wanted to spend the day with Harry. I bit my tongue, shame washing over me.

`               “Okay. I’ll see you later then, yeah?” She hugged me again, and I basked in her best friend warmth before heading out.

                “Hello?” Harry asked when I brought the phone back to my ear.

                With a quick glance over my shoulder, I replied, “Tell him to meet me at Hyde Park. What do you boys want to eat?”

 

When I arrived at the location of Hyde Park that Harry texted me, I instantly began looking for Jonathan. Not spotting him, I wandered around, snapping pictures of people playing. Children were generally more interesting. I watched as a little boy and girl kicked around a football, laughing and smiling, until she went to kick it, and fell. Immediately he went after her, kneeling down beside her, seeing if she was okay. My heart swelled watching the innocent exchange. Little kids held such innocence and purity that most times I wish I could bottle up and keep.

                _Because we all know you have none left_. My subconscious laughed.

                _Lies._ The little voice was beginning to fade. Why? My chest tightened at the thought of it leaving. It was the only aspect of sanity I had left in the constant battle in my head.

                A hand touched my shoulder, causing me to yelp and whirl around. With relief, I saw it was Jonathon. He looked casual in jeans and a plain tee, his light brown hair a mess on the top of his head. “Miss. Harrow, are you alright?” He asked, concern filling his brown eyes.

                “Yeah.” I nodded. “You just scared me. Ready?” He led me to the black SUV, opening the passenger door for me, then, coming ‘round to the driver’s side, revving the engine and headed towards The City.

                “McDonald’s first?” He asked.

                “Yes, please.” I tore my eyes away from scenery outside. “Are you going to be the that always gets me?”

                “Hm?” He asked with polite interest.

                “You know, like watch me, and stuff?”

                “Am I to be your bodyguard?” He chuckled. “Yeah, for as long as Harry sees fit.”

                “Harry? Just Harry?”

                “He didn’t tell you?”

                “Tell me what?” But he didn’t say anything after that, his eyes going back to the road. He didn’t have to say anything, though. I knew. We quickly went through the drive thru at McDonalds, getting the boys’ orders and towards the studio.

                “Who are they under?”

                “Modest.”

                “Huh.” Simon Cowell. They must be good.

                “You really didn’t know them, did you?” He chuckled again.

                “I knew _of_ them...” I flushed. We lapse into silence again. As we get closer, I realize with a shock that Jonathon doesn’t scare me.

                _You weren’t scared of the last one either._ My subconscious hinted.

                _You have nothing to be scared of. Harry hired him. He’s safe_. There she is, with much more conviction.

_I can’t believe I’m actually here._ I thought, gazing into the recording booth where Louis and Zayn were trying to toss chips over Harry’s head and into Niall’s mouth. I giggled as one got lodged into Harry’s hair, and Liam picked it out, blew on it, then ate it.

                _I can’t believe you’re here, either_. My subconscious sneered. _Who would want you here, of all people?_ I frowned at those words, gazing down at my crew neck sweater that had ‘Oh la la’ written in cursive on the front, shorts, and my Steve Maddens. Of course, I had on my beanie, and my fringe bag that carried my camera.

                What _was_ I doing in a place like this?

                _Don’t listen to her_ , my inner voice soothed. _The boys wanted you here. They called you remember?_

                Right.

                _Probably out of pity,_ my subconscious snorted.

                That could be true….

                Harry banging on the window threw me out of my train of thought and back into the studio. I looked at him confused while he mimed putting on headphones and pointing to the mic. I did as I was told, and the man that was sitting next to me pressed down on a button.

                “Hello, love.” Harry flashed a cheeky grin.

                “Hello, Harry,” I smiled back.

                “Can you sing?”

                “Not very well no. Sorry, babe.” I wrinkled my nose.

                “I don’t believe her one bit, mate,” Louis cut in.

                “Come in here,” Harry asked.

                “I’m having fun right here,” I protested, lifting my cinnamon and peppermint mocha to take a sip. “I’m taking plenty of pictures of you lads out here.”

                “No. Here.” Harry pouted.

                “You’re like a child.” I shook my head, but stood, placing my cup on a table that was next to the couch in the corner on this side of the room.

                The boys cheered as I walked into the booth, bombarding me. Harry led me over to the microphone.

                “You ready for this Alan?” Liam asked. The guy nodded, chuckling at the boys’ latest antics. His eyes were light, and he was laughing, but there was something that kept pulling down on the corner of his mouth like he was amused but knew that what they were supposed to be doing was in need of attention.

                _See there you go again, taking attention away from important things. They have a_ job _to do._ I cringed.

                “Sing,” Harry commanded.

                “No.” I raised an eyebrow.

                “Why not?” Niall whined.

                “Because this,” I held up my camera, “Is my talent. I can’t do what you boys’ do-which is lovely by the way.”

                “Awww,” Liam grinned. “Thanks!” They all looked at each other, then bombarded me once more with hugs.

                “Okay, okay.” I struggled to get past my lips. “I get it, honest.”

                “Let’s see some pictures you took of us,” Harry suggested, bounding up to my side. I flushed and turned my camera so the screen was facing up and they could all see. I went through the pictures, laughing anew at some of the antics I caught.

                “I like this one,” I laughed at the picture of the boys tickling Niall.

                “Can I see it?” Harry asked. I gazed up at him for a moment, torn.

                _What is he going to do, break it?_ My subconscious hissed. For once, my inner voice agreed, in a much kinder tone of course. Reluctantly, I handed it over. He turned and placed it in the corner.

                “Styles, what are you-”

                “Now!” Zayn shouted, and they all threw themselves at me, arms outstretched. I let out a shriek as they tickled my sides. I was trying with all my might to get away from them, but they blocked me in.

                “Stop!” I shouted. “Okay, okay!” They managed to get me on the ground and I was now panting, red in the face, aching cheeks with tears streaming down them. “Rotten lot you are.” I huffed, but couldn’t stop the giggle.

                “Smile.” Harry took a picture of us five.

                “What in the world?” A resigned voice sighed. We turned to the door, seeing a tall, built man standing there, arms crossed with and unhappy look on his voice.

                “We weren’t doing anything, I swear!” Harry said quickly, but the smirk on his lips gave him away.

                “What weren’t you doing, then, eh?” He asked.

                “We were just tickling her, that’s all.” Zayn stood up, helping each of us up.

                Harry handed me back my camera. “You met Paul already, yeah?” He asked. I nodded, a feeling enveloping me quickly.

                _Shy? Really_? My subconscious raised a condescending eyebrow. I was shocked, too.

                “Has she met Simon?” Louis asked coming to stand beside Harry.

                “Simon?” I asked, snapping a picture of Louis and Harry’s arms around each other.

                “You know, Simon Cowell,” Niall interjected.

                “Yeah, I know who Simon Cowell is.” I shot Harry a dark look. “Thanks to the bodyguard you hired for me. Thanks for letting me know, by the way.” He just shrugged.

                “I think he’s bringing food…” Niall muttered, flashing a childlike grin that I captured.

                “I just bought you food!” I protested.

                “Insatiable,” Zayn chuckled. “Insatiable this mate is.”

                “Well, you’ll meet him soon enough,” Liam cut in, looking up from his phone, “He’s on his way up.”

                “I get to meet Simon Cowell?” Holy crap, was this really happening? He was like the freaking Christian Vaun of the music world. _Jesus, it’s not like you haven’t met celebrities before. You rubbed elbows with rich and famous only two months ago. You work with celebrities for God sake._ My subconscious had a knack for pointing out the obvious.

                “No,” Harry winked. “He gets to meet you.” I flushed but rolled my eyes at the corny sentiment.

                “Who gets to meet who?” Just then, Simon freaking Cowell walked in, all white t-shirt, blue jeans, and intimidating and bored look.

                “You and Leighton.”

                “Oh.” Simon’s eyebrows rose. “You’re the famous Leighton.”

                “Huh?” _C’mon, that ritzy school taught you better than that,_ my subconscious sneered.

                _Use your polite demeanor. Maybe those galas have come in handy_ , countered my inner voice. She’s right.

                “The lads, especially Harry, haven’t stopped talking about you. Quite chuffed up they were when you agreed to come to the studio.”

                “Oh.” I flushed once again, not able to keep my cheeks from heating. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Cowell.” I held out my hand. He looked surprised for a moment, before grabbing my hand.

                “Simon. Nice to meet you, as well.” He offered a smile. I gave a relieved one back. “Now, how far have you boys gotten? After all, time is money.” His eyes cut to me, before raising his eyebrows at the five boys. I flushing, taking the hint.

                They were working on a song that had been just been finished for them today. They had to get a couple songs done to get an idea of what they want as a single. They were later supposed to have a meeting on an upcoming music video for said single. (How you can plan a music video for a song that hasn’t been picked yet I will never know. But again, this isn’t my job.) Which means more promo. Which means planned sightings. And events. I left him to discuss with the boys and after grabbing my coffee, I wandered into the hall and down to the lounge, sitting on the couch, content on waiting. The receptionist on this floor offered to get me anything I need with a fake smile on her lips.

                I was scrolling through Tumblr, posting an odd picture here and there, typing out thoughts that I held in when the door down the hall opened up. One by one, five boys walked into the hall laughing at something that Zayn muttered, too low for me to hear. Harry’s eyes found mine as he neared before plopping down on my lap.

                I huffed “I don’t remember this being on the list of requirements for friendship.”

                “It was highlighted, bolded, and underlined. You clearly don’t read well enough.” I just rolled my eyes.

                “What did you guys get done?” It had been quite a while since I came out here to sit.

                “Oh, we worked on writing a song, sang a song, bits, and pieces of another. When you showed up and it was all shot to hell.”

                “Lovely.” I giggled. “Sorry to be such a distraction.”

                “We’re not.” They said together.

                “Will you be joining us for dinner?” Simon asked.

                “Oh,” I blinked. “I-”

                “Yes.” Harry cut me off. “Leighton’s coming. Lass doesn’t know how to cook for her life.”

                “I can too!” I hit his arm. “I cooked tacos and spaghetti.”

                “Oh, sorry,” He rolled his eyes.

                “Arse,” I muttered under my breath. But he heard. Doubling over, he laughed loudly for a few moments. I laughed along with him.

                “Where are we going?” I finally asked.

 

“Ta-da!” Niall and Liam threw their arms out, presenting the private room at the restaurant we attended to.

                “We frequent here. Niall likes their food, so it’s a win-win.” The boys went to the table, Harry pulling me along so I could sit beside him.

                “I want you to actually eat.” He whispered in my ear. I flushed. How does he know?

                “Are you two _flirting_?” Louis gasped.

                “What-” I stuttered. “No!” But my reaction only caused them to laugh. Simon shook his head. I ducked my head, hoping for the ground to swallow me up that moment. My saving grace, a waitress, walked in, all smiles - until her eyes settled on me. Her eyes clouded with confusion as she took in the scene of One Direction, Simon Cowell, two others in smart suits and, well… me.

                “Your usual’s?” She asked perky once again.

                “Please, and a fizzy for the lass,” Simon nodded to me. “What would you like?”

                “Sprite is fine, thank you.” She nodded and walked out. Paul and Simon shared a look, stood and followed her out.

                “What was that about?” I asked, lifting my camera once again.

                “What do you possibly have to take pictures of?” Zayn asked.

                “Everything. Everything has some kind of beauty in it. See?” I showed him a picture I had taken of the chandelier on the ceiling, lights, and sparkles, glinting off it onto the ceiling.

                “Wow.” He nodded. “That’s good.”

                “Thank you. But that didn’t distract me from my question.” They all sighed.

                “They just wanted to make sure that none of the staff say anything to the press.”

                “That’s it?” I asked.

                “Well, yeah. You're not upset?”

                “No.” I chuckled. “I’m used to it. Upper eastside girl here.”

                “Right. But did you hear about…?”

                “Oh, yeah. Avena was ranting about it while I was with her. She does a webcast every Friday night. The mystery woman. Except some people think it’s the blond you were seen with.” I messed with his beanie. He grinned at me, lips stretched and red from worrying them with his hands, dimples carved into his cheeks. But it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

                “Your fine with it?” Liam asked. “They have pictures of you two.”

                “The pictures are horrid.” I wrinkled my nose. “They have no idea it’s me.” They shared a look. “What?”

                “We don’t think it will be long before they figure it out.”

                Anxiety sparked through me as they said that. I froze, staring wide-eyed at my camera. No way was I getting in front of this thing again. I can deal with these blurry pictures, sure. Because then it’s not me. I can pretend with all that I have that the blurry girl isn’t me. Until it _is_ me. Until they can see my face, know my name.

                Know my past.

                “Hey,” Harry shook my shoulder. “We’ll deal with it, when it gets here, okay?” I looked up at him, my expression blank. “Don’t worry. Relax.” I nodded feebly, before taking a deep breath. “They don’t have much on it anyways.”

                “Really?” I pulled out my phone and googled it. I knew that this could be a bad idea. This could end in disaster and I could wholly regret it. But I can smell Harry’s cologne (Is it even cologne, or is it just the way he smells?) and I am a glutton for punishment. Harry placed his arm on the back of my chair, and a small shiver of pleasure ran up my spine. His head dipped down, our heads resting against one another, to read the articles with me, and the other four were suddenly in an animated conversation, trying desperately to ignore us.

                “What are you four blathering about?” Simon walked in.

                “Absolutely nothing. We’re just trying to make it less awkward for Lerry over here.”

                “Lerry?” I asked.

                “Yeah, you know, your shipping name. See, I would have given you Larry, but that’s reserved for me.” Sass peaked into his voice as he spoke.

                “… I don’t get it…”

                “You have a lot to learn.” Harry chuckled grabbing my phone. “See.” He showed me a list of names they called the boys relationships.

                “Cute. Why Lerry though? It sounds the same as you and Liam.” Is that right? I had no fucking clue.

                “Because Heighton sound silly, and Hyles as well.”

“Do you even pay attention to this stuff?”

“No, not really. Sometimes we’ll see it where were tagged in posts on twitter and stuff, and signs on tour. But other than that, no.” I just shook my head and played along. Drinks came just then, and everyone placed their orders, Harry ordering for me, as of the fact I had no idea what was on the menu.

                “So, Leighton,” Simon leant back in his chair, his dark stare pinned on me. I squirmed, uncomfortable. “What brought you here to London?”

                “Well,” I swallowed. “I was born here. But after my father… left, Beverly and I moved to the States. We kept the terrace, and I was allowed to come back every summer. Soon, this place seemed more like home than New York.” I shrugged. “When I got the internship with Vaun, I jumped at the chance. It meant I could be here…”

                _And search for him, like the pathetic loser you are_. My subconscious laughed in my face. I tried my best to ignore her.

                “The boys told me about Vaun. How’s your work?”

                “Oh, um,” I flushed. “I don’t really know. I always like to think that my photographs are better than they actually are.”

                “She’s really good,” Harry interjected. “You should see the pictures she shot of us at the combination photo shoot.”

                “Really?” Simon raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t happen to have any of those photos, would you?”

                With shaking hands, I pulled out my case of SIM cards, taking the one with the ‘1D’ labelled along with the date on it. Placing it in my camera, I stood, handing it to Simon. It took all my strength not to take my camera from his grasp.

                “These are brilliant,” Simon commented.

                “Really?” I sat back down, grinning at him, relief flooding through my system.

                “Have you thought of running a blog for these photos?”

                “Of One Direction? No. I couldn’t do that.”

                “Why not?”

                “Well for one, I don’t have your permission, or Vaun’s. I couldn’t do that. And another is…”

                “Yes?” He asked after a moment of silence. All seven pairs of eyes stared back at me, various colors with various degrees of emotions on their faces.

                “Well, we were just talking about the fans, and… Well, it’s not hard to track and IP address of the internet. With all due respect, I love my friendship with these boys. But my private life is separate and I’d rather keep it out of the limelight as much as possible.”

                “That’s true.” He nodded, considering it. “However, if you did it in a public setting, no one would know. I think it would be nice for fans to see pictures of the boys outside of what the paparazzi picks.”

                “Really?” I couldn’t help my eyes lighting up. “You’d let me do a blog?”

                “Most certainly. These pictures won’t do any good sitting in your camera.”

                “Wow. Thanks, Simon!” I glanced at Harry, and he offered a wide, dimple-inducing grin.

                “You know; I work with Vaun at times…” Simon trailed off. I waited for him to continue. “We get some of his photographers to come along with the boys during tours, and signing and appearances.”

                The excitement that was beginning to fade built right back up in me, sending adrenaline through my veins. Was he…?

                He shrugged. “I’ll talk to him about it. But work on that blog of yours. And get your photographs copyrighted.” He handed back my camera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm absolutely awful at keeping up with updates. I thought I would have it done before my final on Tuesday, but no. And then there was hassle of moving back home (I live in the midwest and go to school in New York) and then family stuff. So again, really sorry for not updating like i should have.  
> I changed a bunch of what was going on here, but to be honest, I don't know if I still like it. But I wanted to give you guys this. I hope you love it.  
> Uncle Simon is here. He appears maybe a couple times throughout this, but maybe not much because I don't particularly like him so I avoid that as much as I can.  
> I remember when that rumor of Harry and the beanie circulated and I was like, what the heck? I played into it much more in the story before I edited it. I not for one second believed it, but it aids in the story, so I added it.  
> And YES Leighton will soon be finding herself entangled with Tumblr accounts and PR teams. I can't wait for y'all to see!  
> Hope you guys liked this, and again sorry for being like two (three?) weeks behind.  
> Much love, always,   
> Rikkibabyy -xx


	11. I hate kale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! Warning in this chapter, Leighton has a panic attack in this chapter so if that's triggering in any sort of way, I want to let you know.  
> This chappie's a little shorter, but it ends just right to lead into another event.  
> Sorry for it being late. I'm shit at deadlines!

The next day, my head was swirling with the idea of travelling country to country, taking photos, meeting new people, _doing what I loved_. Nothing could shake my mood and it took practically all my strength not to skip into Vaun Headquarters.

                “You’re in a good mood today.” McKenna noticed immediately. I just couldn’t shake my wide grin.

                Of course, I’m in a good mood. I spent all afternoon with Harry. And the boys. Throughout dinner, while they talked business-promos, pap walks, signings blah blah blah...- I scoured the internet, looking at articles, seeing interviews, Harry intercepting telling me what was moderately true and what was completely exaggerated. Most of the videos were hilarious and took a great amount of effort to not burst out laughing. After dinner - which Niall demanded we have dessert - the boys and I went back to Harry and Louis’ to watch a movie, where we ended up having a popcorn war. I got a hug and a kiss on the cheek from all of them when Jonathon showed up to take me home.

                My jacket still smells like Harry.

                “It’s Saturday,” I shrugged. “It’s a good day for me. Plus, we’re going out tonight. I haven’t gone out much since I moved in.”

                _Because you’ve been too busy being holed up with five boys_ , my subconscious harped. Where did she come from? She had been gone since dinner last night. I thought I was finished with her.

                “That’s right. I know the perfect club-”

                “Leighton!” Vaun stomped over.

                “Yes, sir?” I asked, offering a smile. He studied me for a moment, before handing me a thick stack of papers.

                “I need these organised, and there’s a list of people I need you to call to set up meetings with. I want it all done today.” He waved me away. I shot McKenna a look who giggled and pranced over to set. I made my way upstairs with the large stack of advertisements and clients.

 

“Nice terrace,” McKenna strolled in, giving a low whistle, her eyes wandering around the vast space, appraising it. I had just finished getting ready for the night, and now that’s she’s seen my house, I have no reason to stay any longer than I need to.  

                “Thanks, love.” I grabbed my black fringe bag. Leather jacket, military green loose tank, tight skirt, and Steve Maddens, and I was ready to go out and enjoy myself.

                “So,” She started as we headed out to her car. An Audi. Of course. “I was thinking we go to that pub I mentioned earlier, then about midnight hit up one of the clubs, sound brill?”

                “Yeah. Sounds brill.” I grinned at her, butterflies blooming in my stomach as she gunned it, ripping down the quiet road.

                “Did you want to invite anyone?” She asked though I could from her facial expression she wanted the exact opposite.

                “Oh, no.” I shook my head, much to her relief. “I usually spend the weekends with my best friend Avena, but she’s busy.” _Busy? Sure_. My subconscious snorted. I ignored the snide comment, deciding that McKenna and I needed time to hang out and get to know each other. We’ve spent days working together, but this was going to be different. This was going to be new. I needed new friends and when I looked over at McKenna, dressed up to the nines, smiling as she told me about a wardrobe malfunction that happened while in Milan, I was glad it was going to be her.

                “Avena? Your best friend?” She glanced over at me. No, not a glance. Her eyes pierced mine, wide and curious. I nodded, shooting glances at the road, hoping that we wouldn’t crash. Panic swept down my spine as she whipped around a car, squeezing between two others. “You’ve never mentioned her before.” Her eyes narrowed, turning her whole attention to the road. What… Just happened?

                The idea of going out- _out_ was beginning to terrify me. I hadn’t gone out in a long time, as ordered by Nancy-which reminds me, how _is_ Nancy? - and the possibility of getting completely smashed sent a shiver of excitement up my spine, but dark thoughts clouded the back of my mind.

                I’ll be fine. _Or end up in a strangers bed. Again._

_Don’t listen to her. You’re a new, responsible version of Leighton Harrow._

_Yeah,_ my subconscious snorted. _So responsible she’s lying to everyone around her_.

                A shot of panic rose in my stomach. What if I did end up in a stranger's bed? Don’t be stupid. You’ll be fine. Besides, you have _him_ to call. I glanced down my phone, where I was bantering with Harry throughout the afternoon.

 

                **What are you doing tonight?**  
**-H xx**

 

                **Going out with a friend. Sorry, Styles.**

 

 _You’re willing to tell him the truth, that you want to hang out with your new chummy friend, but you’ll blatantly lie and ditch your best friend? Classy._ My subconscious commented like she was discussing the weather. Shut up.

                “-You okay?” McKenna pulled me out of my reverie.

                “Yeah? Why?”

                “Because we’ve been sitting here for the past couple minutes. Do you not want to do this? I mean, we can do something else. It’d be such a waste of an outfit, though…” She sighed. I glanced at it. Black brassiere, maroon high waist skirt, and her signature ankle boots. Of course. I have to admit, though; she does look killer.

                “No. Let’s go.” I gave her a smile, trying to salvage the enjoyment I was radiating this morning. “It’s party time.” I got out the car and walked closer to my omen.

 

“McKenna, we don’t even know them.” I took a sip of my beer, cringing slightly at the taste. I was never a beer person. I set it back on the bar and leant back in my seat.

                My subconscious snorted, _Yeah you’re more of a hard liquor kinda gal_. I took a gulp of my beer, back stiffening.

                “So?” She shrugged, grimacing down at her hand that was a moment ago holding the beer but was now slick with the condensation. “This is how you get to know people. You walk up to them, talk to them, get to know them.”

                “Then what?”

                “You get to know what their room looks like in the dark.” She winked. I blanched. “Oh, cmon. Don’t tell me you’re a prude. A girl like you living on the Upper East side? Having a job like _this_?”

                “I never said I was a prude.” I snapped.

                “Good. Aren’t you indie freaks supposed to be all about sex is a beautiful thing?”

                “I’m an indie freak?” I raised an eyebrow.

                She sighed. “You’re putting words in my mouth. I meant like, hipsters. Indie people. Those who use old polaroid’s, listen to vinyl records. I dunno, eat kale?”

                “I hate kale.”

                “Great. Now can we go mingle?” She didn’t wait for a response because she was out of her seat and weaved her way to a group at the other end of the bar. With a resigned sigh, I followed.

                There were 4 girls and 3 guys there, all laughing, smiling, curious eyes on McKenna as she approached. I didn’t hear what she said, but they all smiled, shouting out affirmatives. One guy stood from his seat which McKenna graciously took. She offered a sly smile and a hair shake. Their eyes connected longer than deemed necessary.

                Hook, line and sinker.

                Jesus this girl worked fast.

                 I sidled up to her, and her eyes cut to me, wide with a faux innocence. “Guys, this is my friend Leighton Harrow. She’s American.” They let out a cheer.

                “Where from?”

                “New York.” I raised my drink in cheers. A girl leant into the guy next to her, his hand reaching to link with hers. _Damn, where’s my camera._

                Oh, shit. Where did I leave my camera? I quickly thought back through my day. McKenna showed up, before that I was getting ready, before that I was…. It’s on the dining table.

                “-Leighton!”

                “Sorry,” I gave a quick shake of my head. “What?”

                “Americans with their short attention spans.” That earned a couple titters. “I was saying how you and I work together, how you do photography.”

                “Oh, yeah.” I nodded, sipping my beer. “I do. Uhm, under Christian Vaun.  Been doing photography for a couple years now.”

                “You any good?” The guy closest to me asked. He had dark hair and dark eyes, slightly tanned skin like his vacation tan had started fading only a couple weeks ago but hasn’t been subjected to the sad sunless skies of London.

                “She has to be Gabriel if she had a _job_ doing it.” The girl next to him shoved him. “Sorry, he’s such a wanker. Doesn’t know what to do with himself when he’s around pretty girls such as us.”

                “Yes, Abby. You 6 made me go mad with your beauty.” But his eyes found mine. I flushed.

                “You do anything scandalous?” Another girl asked with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows. “I’m Sarah by the way.”

                I laughed. “The furthest I’ve done is shoot someone with a sheet.” The girls let out cat calls.

                “You’ve never done a nude shoot?” Gabriel asked. Jesus this guy is standing close.

                “No, but I want to.” The rest of the group let out howls of laughter and I flushed realising what I just did.

                _It’s not the end of the world. You_ are _single. It’s okay for you to flirt._ My inner voice reasoned.

                _Or you could fuck him and regret it in the morning_. And there was my subconscious. I pushed it aside and focused on the group before me. The couple was Tyler and Adriana, they were engaged had come into the city for the weekend and wanted to meet up with their friends. Which included Gabriel, Abby, Sarah, Peter, and Isa. Peter seemed to be getting on great with McKenna if his hand on her ass, while we were taking shots, was any indication.

                And wait, didn’t she want it to be just us two?

                I made a point to make as little conversation as possible, enjoying the antics of Abby and Sarah. Abby made a show about us taking shots while Sarah spilt half of it off the side of her mouth as she shot her head forward too fast from the bitter taste of tequila.

                “Let’s go to Funky Buddha!” McKenna shouted, causing the group to cheer. I tilted my head from side to side, feeling how lightheaded I was, feeling as if my brain was disconnected, rolling around in my skull. I grinned.

                Isa wasn’t drinking so she took McKenna’s keys who pouted until Peter said she could sit on his lap. I made a beeline for shotgun Sarah following and sitting on my lap. Besides Peter and McKenna was Adriana and Tyler and Gabriel with Abby on his lap. She leant forward to put her head in between the two front seats, to be a part of the conversation that inevitably involved the entire car. Sarah and I exchanged phone numbers, Abby demanding that I have hers as well.

                By the time Isa parked, we were all a laughing, bumbling mess. McKenna walked straight up to the bodyguard, whispered something in his ear. He looked at the list, looked at us and let us in. Well. That was easy.

 

Three glasses into something that McKenna bought for us, I was beginning to feel like my old self. I looked around the club, the bass vibrating against the floor, the dance floor and the bar crowded, everyone either wasted or pretending to be. McKenna was on the dance floor, dancing her ass off with Peter. The pub was fun, the beer was gross, the group was a riot. They were funny, the bunch, the girls funny and sassy while the guys chugged down beer after beer in some competition they had. But now, everyone had dispersed, only Gabriel lingering with me before he found a girl dancing alone and making eyes at him. With a parting glance at me, like he was waiting for me to say something, _anything_ , he turned and left.

                _What are you doing? Dance!_ Right. I made my way onto the dance floor, all thoughts slipping my mind, and I let my body take over as I closed my eyes.  I was able to enjoy myself for only a few moments when I felt an arm wrap around me. The smell was familiar and I welcomed the scent, my lips curving up. What was he doing here? I continued to dance, enjoying myself and felt his lips by my ear. The music was vibrating through me, pulsing through my veins, my straight hair now curling and clinging to my forehead and against my neck. Sweat clung to my face, my makeup long gone by now for sure. My feet had gone numb, but I didn’t know if that was from the shoes or dancing, or because the alcohol felt too damn good.

                “How about we get out of here?” He whispered in my ear. I froze. _Shit_. I whirled around, seeing a blond haired cutie with dark eyes, and a wolfish grin on his face. “Is that a yes?”

                I felt my stomach clenching and my heartbeat race. Adrenaline shot through me, spiking and sobering me up. I began shaking and my eyes widened. I need to go. Turning back around, I ran further into the crowd, searching for McKenna, ignoring his shouts. I managed to find her, nearly having sex with the guy on the dance floor.

                “McKenna!” I shouted. She turned to me, clearly irritated. “I need your keys.”

                “What for?” She shouted over the music.

                “My stuff is in your car!” She sighed, and tossed me her keys, going back to the guy. I rolled my eyes and practically ran to her car. After gathering my stuff, I made quick work to return the keys and started walking back home. I quickly texted Harry. Because there’s nothing like drunk texting him at 1 in the morning.

 

              **Why, what are you doing tonight?**

**Out with the lads, just wanted to see if you could join me.**

_Why couldn’t you just join them?_ My subconscious shouted. I ignored her as best I could, searching for a taxi. When I found one I told him my address and let myself relax in the backseat. Glancing at the time on my phone, confirming that it was only a little after one.

                _Lightweigh_ t. My subconscious sniggered. Boy, was she a mass of contradictions today. _Only when your acting like a slut_.

                I flinched, begging for some sort of peace. But she wasn’t having any of it. She kept badgering me. I could feel my blood pounding in my ears and my hands grew clammy. What would have happened? I could have taken a couple shots with him. I could have left with him. I could have slept with him. And then what? Possibly end up with a disease or pregnant - or worse. I didn’t want to think about it. But, boy, did my subconscious want to. When the taxi driver pulled up to my house, I gave him the fare, and ran inside, up the stairs, collapsing at the foot of the third story stairs. My body didn’t seem to want to listen as I tried to get up. My legs refused to move, like lead they were.

                _You're nothing but a stupid slut! All you’re going to do is party and fuck everything else up here! That’s why you don’t have any friend in New York. Because you were too busy whoring around with girls’ boyfriends!_

                With shaky hands, I reached for my purse.

                “Hello?” He answered on the first ring. My mouth opened to speak but the sobs I was fighting broke through, leaving me a shaking, sobbing, incoherent mess. “Leighton!” He shouted, his voice muffled by the noise in the background. “Leighton, where are you?”

                “I just…” I fought through. “Panicking…”

                “I’ll be there in a few. Stay where you are!” He hung out. My subconscious continued to scream at me, forcing the pain in my chest deeper and deeper, until it radiated throughout, my body eventually going numb. I couldn’t take this… I think I’m going to…

                “Leighton!” I heard a voice shout. “Leighton where are you?” I turned and wretched. Feet pounded on the stairs and then silence as he took in my figure, hunched over in the fetal position, contents from earlier today on the floor next to me. “Leighton,” Harry whispered, his voice soft and gentle, and a little bit of hurt, I think.

                “C’mon, babe.” He crouched next to me, picking me up with ease. “Which way?” I pointed in the general direction, curling up towards his chest, only to have panic rise up in me again as I smelt the familiar scent. I tried to push away from him, but he held tighter as he walked down the hall, and into my room, setting me down onto the bed.

                “You’re okay,” He soothed, his fingers running through my hair. I opened my eyes, my breathing harsh from my bout of resistance. “Hey, listen. You’re okay, love.” I just stared at him, unsure. “You are. I promise. I’m here now. Like I promised.”

                Harry had promised me. Right. Okay. Deep breaths, dear. I did. Blink, regain some sanity. I did.

                “Can you get changed alright? I’m going to clean up…” He glanced down the hall. I felt myself nod. “Okay.” He kissed my forehead before walking down the hall. I followed quietly, opening the laundry room door for him. He nodded his thanks. Going back to my room, I changed mechanically, giving myself simple instructions as I go. Untie your shoes. Take them off. Now your jacket. Skirt, now put on your sweats. Take off your shirt. Good, put on a t-shirt now.

                “Do you want tea?” Harry’s voice caused me to jump. When I met his eyes, I shook my head, going straight to my bed and curling up in the corner. When I shut my eyes, I could see the bedroom lights shut off. My eyes flew open and I reached out.

                “Don’t leave!” I practically shouted.

                “Never.” He whispered climbing into bed with me He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer to him, engulfing me with his warmth.

 

Turning, burying myself closer to that familiar scent, I fought off the haziness of sleep. Blinking slowly, I expected to see him, only to find my room empty. I sat up straight, running my fingers through my hair, looking around the room frantic. Only his sweatshirt was on the floor.

                “Harry!” I called, scrambling out of bed. I ran to my door, throwing it up - only to see Harry leaning against the bannister, phone pressed to his ear.

                He glanced at me, concern instantly clouding his face. “Hold on, Lou. Leighton, what is it? Are you okay?”

                “I thought you left,” I whispered.

                “No.” He stood up straighter, grabbing my arm, pulling me into a hug. “I’m right here.” Easily, he rested his chin on my head. “Yeah mate, I’m here… No, I lost track of time… I stayed the night, obviously… No Lou, we didn’t… Bad day, I think. I don’t know. I have to go, see you late.” He hung up. “Would you like some breakfast?”

                “Yeah,” I mumbled, breathing in his scent. My mind drifted to last night. How could I think that it was the same? Harry was different. He smelt warm, and safe, and clean. Last night was… No.

                “Why don’t you take a shower? I’ll make breakfast.” I agreed, turning back into my room and into the bathroom.

                After I was freshly clean, washed and dried, I changed into jeans and a crop tee and headed downstairs.

                “Here you go, love. Pancakes. And it’s happy to see you!” He gave me a dimple-inducing boyish grin. I looked down at the pancakes, and sure enough, the chocolate chips were arranged in the shape of a smiley face.

                “Thanks,” I smiled, getting the kettle that was boiling. We manoeuvred around the kitchen like two forces pulling together, hovering, at ease with each other more so than we should be for knowing each other for only a short while as he finished the pancakes and I got our teas. We sat at the bar, eating in silence for the moment. “Harry,” I glanced at me. He turned his green eyes towards me, a small smile on his lips. “Thanks.”

                “For what?” He asked.

                “Staying the night,” I whispered.

                He shifted in his seat so he was fully facing me. “Leila… What happened?” I swallowed.

                “I just…” I trailed off. Did I want to tell him? Tell him about the voices, the negative thoughts, the panic attacks, the anxiety and paranoia?

                _Don’t do it. You’ll lose your only friend._ My subconscious commented.

                _Harry isn’t your only friend. You have McKenna now, and Avena. Besides if he was a friend, then he would understand_. My inner voice reasoned out.

                But I wasn’t going to take that chance.

                “I got scared. I was at this club… And I was dancing. McKenna was trying to get my drunk.” I snorted. “But she was dancing with some bloke, and I was dancing. This guy came up and started dancing with me. I thought it was you.”

                “Me?” A slow smirk spread across his face.

                “He smelt like you.” I flushed.

                “Did he now?”

                “Then he asked me if I wanted to leave, and-” How do I finish this without telling him? “I’ve heard horror stories and got scared. I don’t know,” I shrugged. “It happened a lot in New York, and when I left, I started getting inside my head, thinking of what could have happened-” Panic rose up in me again and my breathing quickened.

                “Hey!” Harry’s hands gripped either side of my face, forcing me to look at him. “Look at me.” I didn’t really have much of a choice. “You’re fine. I’m here, and it’s morning and you’re safe.”

                “I know.”

                “Besides,” He smirked. “He probably just wanted into your knickers.”

                “Harry!” I hit his arm. He released my face, going back to his food. “That’s horrid.”

                “I’m glad you called.” He said after a moment.

                “You are?”

                He nodded. “I didn’t know if you believed me or not when I told you to call whenever you needed me. But you did. Anyhow, I was bored out of my mind.”

                “Were you?” I raised an eyebrow. “No hot girls you wanted to take home?”

                He snorted. “Even if I wanted to I couldn’t. Lou’s girlfriend came over last night. I wouldn’t bring home girls when Eleanor’s over.”

                “That’s nice of you.”

                “Sure.” He shrugged. “Honest, though, are you alright now?”

                I stood, gathering our now empty plates and set them in the sink. “Yeah. Do you want a tour now?”

                He gasped, laughter and mock in his eyes. “A _real_ one this time?”

                “Yeah.” I chuckled. “C’mon.” He followed me to the room in the back of the ground floor. “This is a guest room. My nanny and her husband usually stay in here.” I opened the room, revealing a small but comfortable room in various shades of brown and beige. “Bathroom is here.” I nodded towards the room next to it, under the stairs.

                “Do you play football?” Harry grabbed the red and black football on the table in the foyer by the door.

                I snorted. “No. I wish, though. I love watching it, but I can’t play to save my life. You?”

                “Love it. If you ask the boys they’d say I’m awful at it, but they’re just jealous of my skills. Who’s your favourite team?”

                “Easy. Manchester United.”

                He moved close to me, arms wrapping around my thighs, lifting me up. I gasped in surprise. Blue met green, his eyes filled with laughter and emotion. “Marry me.”

                I laughed, but my arms wound around his neck. “No can do, Styles.”

                “Why the bloody hell not?”

                “Because,” I reasoned. He put me down, only to turn his back to me, motioning for me to jump up. I did as I was told. He started walking up the steps. “If United being my favourite footie team is reasons for marriage, you’d being marrying a lot of people. Besides, we’re friends. I like being friends with you.”

                “You do?” He sounded proud of himself.

                I giggled. “Yeah. Your pretty cool, Styles.”

                “Thanks. So,” He opened one of the doors. “Your room.”

                “Yep.” I jumped down, going over to the window, pulling back the blinds to let light in.

                “It’s bright.” He sat down on my bed.

                “I know.” I beamed. “Haven’t you already seen this room, though?”

                “No.” He shook his head. “When I came over, I cleaned up the sick-” I flushed. “Then we went to bed. I didn’t nosy around.”

                “What about this morning?”

                “I woke up from my phone ringing. I didn’t want to wake you, so I stepped out into the hall. But you woke up anyways. Besides, I wouldn’t ‘nosy around’ without your permission.”

                “Oh.” I flushed, looking anywhere but him. “Right. Well, feel free to look around.”

                “Cool.” He stood, going over to my bookcase. After that, and look at the clutter of my desk, he wandered over to the wall full of pictures. “You have empty spots.”

                “Yeah…” I stood, grabbing an envelope from one of my bags. “It’s from…” But I handed them to him, and he froze.

                “The bridge?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Leila, these are fantastic. I wish…”

                “Wish what?”

                “I wish that we could have found a way to stay in contact. So that I wouldn’t have had to spend a year wondering if you remembered me.” His eyes were earnest. When his eyes dipped back down to look at the photos, a frown etched the corner of his lips.

                I let out a nervous laugh. “Imagine where we’d be right now, though.”

                “You would have accepted my proposal.” He grinned.

                “That wasn’t very romantic, Harry.” I admonished, taking the photos and sticking them back up on the wall.

                “I’ll keep that in mind.”

                “Excuse me?” I whirled around, facing him.

                He just chuckled. “Just wait and see, Leighton. I’ll marry you one day.”

                “Sure.” I rolled my eyes. “Whatever you say, Styles.” He continued looking throughout my room, asking about the little things that were placed around the room. I tried to control my pounding heart.

                “What are these pictures of?” He asked from the bathroom. I had added several other pictures onto my bathroom mirror when I moved in.

                “That’s Beverly’s house in New York. This is Avena and me in Cancun. Fashion week in Tokyo. And this is from you boys in the studio. I figured since you had a picture of me, then I can have a picture of you.”

                “Right.” He nodded, looking at me through the mirror. I held his green gaze with my blue one. My mind grew hazy. I could feel his body heat sending soft waves, tickling my skin. I watched his jaw flex, eyes trained on me. I couldn’t bring myself to breathe, worried that even the slightest noise would ruin this moment.

                Of fuck, we were having a moment.

                “Harry…” I trailed off, turning to him. He ran his fingers through his curls and licked his lips. “I-” But his phone rang, causing us both to jump. He sighed, frustration flashing across his face and answered it.

                “You have really bad timing, Gem…” He grumbled wandering out of the bathroom. _Gem? Whose Gem?_

                But that reminded me. Nancy. Quickly, I went onto my email on my phone and sent her a message to see how she was, and how Beverly was holding up without having her ’asset’ around. After that, I texted McKenna to see how she fared from last night.

                “Hey,” Harry popped his head into the room, a grin on his lips. “Do you like bowling?”

                “Bowling?” I raised an eyebrow. “I have never bowled.”

                “She’s never bowled.” He said into his phone. “Yeah. Okay. We’ll meet you there.”

                “Meet who where?” I asked.

                “Jonathon’s on his way here. Liam and Zayn rented out a bowling alley for us. They wanted you to meet their girlfriends, but stuff came up last minute so that’s a no-go. But bring your laptop. They have Wi-Fi, so we can set up your new blog.”

                “We’re going bowling?” I asked again, not fully able to comprehend the idea.

                Harry gave way for a huge, dimple-inducing grin. “Yes. Let's go woman! We’ll be late!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this guys, and again, sorry for the inability to update on time. How I meet deadlines for Uni, I have no clue.  
> I was gonna post it earlier this morning, but I found I couldn't do much of anything after I watched the news. These past few days have been plagued with so much hatred and my heart goes out to those who are affected.  
> Much love,  
> Always,  
> Rikkibayy -xx


	12. The shades between black and white

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiii lovies!
> 
> This was originally a side blurb I had written, but there's a bunch of little things that really explain how Leighton is as a person. It's shorter than all the others but it had a natural beginning and end.  
> Enjoy xx

That Friday I was walking up the steps to my terrace when my phone buzzed in my back pocket. I smiled with I saw it was Harry.

 

**What are you doing this afternoon?**

**Just got home from work. IDK yet tho. U??**

**I guess I’m heading over to your flat after I finish up here. xx**

 

I just love how he assumed things. But I couldn’t ignore the flutter in my stomach.

 

**Alright. See you then…**

 

My phone rang a familiar tune, and I smiled softly at the number and picture that appeared on my screen. “Hi Nancy,” I said, placing my phone between my shoulder and my cheek as I unlocked my front door. The keys jingled as I took them out the key hole, and stepped inside.

                “Morning. Is it still morning there?” She yawned.

                I chuckled. “Not quite. It’s about one over here.”

                “Oh. Shouldn’t you be at work then?”

                “Vaun let me leave early. I only had to work in the dark room and take care of a couple rolls. He let me go as soon as I was done.” Placing my bag on the hook by the door, I took off my jacket and set my things on the table.

                “How is work? How is London?”

                “It’s…” I flushed. “Works good. I went out with a friend last weekend. Met some new people.” Which is true. I’ve been messaging Sarah and Abby a few times, even went to lunch with Adriana a couple days ago when she wound up being near the studio.  

                “Yeah?”

                “Yeah. Her names McKenna. She’s a total Brit. It’s great.”

                “How’s the house? Is it dirty?”

                “Uh…” I looked at the sink full of dishes. Mostly cups with tea residue still in them. “Nope. Not at all.”

                “You can lie to yourself all you want. But you’re not fooling me.” Nancy chuckled. “And your bills? Have you paid your bills?”

                “Bills?” I stopped. “What bills? No one told me there would be bills!”

                There was a long pause before a long collective sigh. “Get a piece of paper and a pen. You’re writing a list. You have chores today, kid.”

                I groaned. “Chores!? What the bloody hell are chores!?”

                “Watch your tone young lady. Chores are work that needs to be done around the house. Pen. Paper. Now.” Begrudgingly I did as I was told.

                “Okay. Here’s what you’re going to do…”

                Two full pages later of chores to do, she concluded with dusting the bannister.

                “This is horrid! I can’t do any of these.”

                “Call me if you need anything. I have to go now, though. I’ll see you real soon. I promise.”

                “Bye.” I sighed. Setting my phone on the counter, I looked around the room. Okay. I can do this.

 

“ _Ah_!” I screamed, opening the door to the laundry room. Soap suds were all over the floor and continued to pour out of the stupid machine. “Stop!” I shouted running over to it, opening it up. It sputtered, throwing up suds then stopped. “Stupid stupid machine!” I kicked it, only to wail out in pain. A loud laughter sounded behind me, causing me to jump and whirl around. Harry was leaning against the bannister, head was thrown back, laughing.

                “What are you trying to do?” He finally calmed down enough to ask.

                “I’m _trying_ to do my clothes. They kept piling up, and I guess I’m the one who has to wash them. But this stupid death machine is attacking my floor!”

                “It’s called soap, love.” Harry shook his head. “That happens when you add too much detergent. How much did you add?”

                “Well…” I flushed.

                “Leighton…” He trailed off.

                “Okay okay! So I went to pour in the cap - because the bottle said to use that, yeah. But then the actual bottle fell into the wash.”

                He groaned. “Leila. Come here.” He pulled me out of the laundry room. “Where are your mops and things?”

                “Uh…” I flushed, not able to look him in the eyes. “I only have the stuff that you used last time…”

                “What have you been cleaning? I can smell a lot of disinfectants downstairs.”

                “I used paper towels and things.”

                He laughed, throwing his head back. “I’m calling Paul. Jonathan can bring cleaning things. You need brooms and mops love.” He kissed the top of my head. “But while you’re at it, get a towel and maybe clean up the suds.” He chuckled again, shaking his head, heading downstairs.

                “It’s not funny! I could have died.”

                “Knowing you, probably.” I stuck my tongue out at his departing figure before turning back to glare at the mess. But I did as I was told and did my best to towel up the suds. A while later the doorbell rang. I heard the door open then shut, followed by low voices muttering to each other.

                “Make way!” I heard Jonathan call up from the bottom of the stairs. “I have mops, brooms, sweepers. All sorts of things. I got disinfectants, sponges, even gloves.”

                “You’re a lifesaver.” I huffed, blowing my hair out of my face. Currently, I was sitting in the middle of the Laundry room, a now wet towel on my lap.

                “Where would you like them?”

                “I would like them to have already do what their job is so I don’t have to,” I grumbled. “But you can set them down right there. Thanks for coming all the way over here for this.”

                “It’s no problem. I was getting things anyways.”

                “Cleaning supplies?” I arched an eyebrow. He just chuckled. “Honestly, it would be so much easier if Harry would just leave my house in public.” I took his offered hand and stood. “Then we wouldn’t have to drag you or Paul into every situation.”

                “It’s quite alright, Leighton.”

                “No, it’s not. Mark my words, Jonathan. I’m going to get him to go out there. In the real world with me one of these days. One day our friendship won’t be a secret.”

                “Really? And how are you going to do that?”

                He was just humoring me by now. “I don’t know yet. I’ll figure something out. I usually do.”

                “I’m catching on to that. I have to go now. The missus’ awaits.”

                “Right, of course. Thanks again.” Harry and Jonathan exchanged departures on the stairs as Harry made his way up. “Look what you did!” I shouted at him.

                “What did I do?”

                “He was out! With his girlfriend, or something. And you called and interrupted it all!”

                “Oh.” He frowned. “I’m sorry.”

                 I crossed my arms and nudged the new green bucket with my toe. “Good. Now, what do I do with this thing?”

 

Many _many_ hours later (it honestly probably wasn’t that long, but anything that has to do with something as mundane as this _must_ take hours upon hours), I collapsed on the couch with a long sigh. Harry plopped down next to me.

                “Okay. You cleaned windows.”

                “Check.” I grabbed the sheet of paper and crossed it off the list.

                “And I swept the stairs.”

                “Check.”

                “What’s next?” He ran his fingers through his hair. “What?” He asked, catching me staring at him.

                “You’re a good friend, you know that?”

                “Yeah? How?” He grinned, offering a dimple.

                “You stayed, despite having to help me clean. You actually did help me clean. And saved me from a wretched bloody death machine.”

                “That ‘death machine’ makes your clothes smell good.” He countered.

                “Are you saying my clothes smell bad?” I feigned being offended.

                “Not particularly, no… Just in general?”

                “Nice one.” I rolled my eyes, chuckling at him. “Alright. All that’s left is folding my clothes and paying bills. Did you even know about these?”

                “What? Bills? Yes, love. Everyone has them.”

                “You have to pay! To use electricity! By now isn’t it a necessity. It’s like water! You shouldn’t have to pay for it.”

                “You pay a water bill, too, babe.”

                “You’ve got to be bloody kidding me.” I stared, shocked at him. “Great. Just great.”

                “How about this? I make dinner - whatever’s in there - and you finish clothes. After that, I’ll help you with your bills.”

                “You’re my hero.”

                “Good.” He kissed the top of my head before getting me up, pulling me with him. My clothes sat in a pile on the top of the dining room table. I thought about the logistics of that, considering I’d have to take them back upstairs after folding, but quickly realized that this is what Nancy did when she was here with me. I let my mind wander for a moment, thinking of the times I sat at the kitchen counters watching Nancy fold clothes, tell stories. Watched as she smiled fondly at a quip remark I would make, or an old shirt. Something deep in me ached as I thought of laundry days years back. Whether it was storming out (which was a lot) there was the constant patter of the rain on the side of the house, the soft rumble of thunder, the streaks of lightning. But we were safe, always safe with Nancy. We would spend the days indoors, drinking tea and folding warm clothes. When the storm let up, but the rain soldiered on, we would put on out wellies and play outside – resulting in her having to wash our clothes once we were properly soaked with heavy sodden clothes and runny noses. Or when it was sunny, the curtains open, the windows open, the breeze toying with her hair. The wind would send the scent of the clothes to every corner of the house, making it smell warm, making it smell like _home_.

                “Why don’t you know any of this stuff, Leila?” Harry jerked me back to the here and now. He was going through the cabinets, the soft thudding noises of the doors closing echoing softly.

                I sighed. “I never had to worry about these things. I lived a rather privileged life.” Why was I delving in this?

                _Because you’re worthless and pathetic_.

                _Because you’re learning to trust again. Even if it is him_. Wow, even my inner voice, the nice sweet one had a little bit of resentment towards that…

                “I had people to do this for me. Even when I would come here during the summer, cleaners would come in before I visited, clean, and come in once a week while my nanny and I were out. Then they would come in the day after I left and clean. And my nanny did the laundry. I never had to learn anything.” As I spoke I realised how little he knew of my life back home, how little he knew of the old me.

                “Not even bills?” He teased.

                “No, Beverly had everything paid for in advance. But when I told her that I wanted to do this on my own, I guess she took me literally.”

                “I think it’s pretty great that you want to do it on your own. I mean, a whole different country, a different life than what I’m sure you’re used to.”

                “It’s a change.” I shrugged. “But a good change.” When I glanced up from putting a shirt on a hanger, he was staring at me.

                He blinked. “Either way, you’re doing a pretty great job.” I looked down at the table he indicated to. I was doing pretty good. I already had a decent pile of my things that go in my drawers in my closet, along with category coordinated clothes to be hung up, skirts, dresses, pants, tops. Formal, casual.

                “Thanks.” I flushed. “So what’s for dinner?”

                “I was thinking a little bit of chicken alfredo.”

                “Oh. Fancy. Can you handle that?”

                “Of course. You have pre-prepped chicken. Oh and a box of the alfredo.”

                “Cheater.” I teased him. It took no time at all to get my clothes back up to my room and Harry was done cooking soon after. I grabbed drinks and we settled at the bar. We settled into easy chatter and I soon found myself questioning him about his life and childhood. I cocked my head to the side as I watched him lean his head back and laugh, a loud, pleasant laugh. Real. The way he moved his food around on the plate before he took a bite of it. How his gaze flickered up from my plate to me, ensuring that I ate - _How does he_ know? -and the way that his tongue stuck out before the fork even reached his mouth.

                “So,” He asked, shaking out his curly hair. “What’s your favourite colour?”

                “Hm…” I’ve never really thought about it. “Grey.” I finally said.

                “Grey? Seriously?” He raised his eyebrows, surprise on his face.

                “Yeah.” I decided with a firm nod of my head. “All the variations of it. It can either be black or white. But it’s so many shades of those two colours. There are different moods within each shade. Just a touch of black makes it darker in different ways. A light grey, it’s like mist, and calm. Or like clouds while it’s raining. But if it’s darker, it’s brooding, and troubling.”

                “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

                “Yeah.” I shook off the familiar melancholy feeling. “You? What’s yours?”

                “I don’t really have one.”

                “You have a whole spectrum of colours to choose from and you can’t pick just one?”

                “Nope.” He popped the ‘p’. “But I do know that if I were to be a colour, I’d be pink.”

                “I-” I sat there stumped for a moment. “I swear to God, Styles... You are the weirdest sometimes.”

                “I know.” He smiled wide, eyes squeezed shut, craters forming on his cheeks. I shoved him.

                “Do you do that a lot?” He asked after a moment of silence. “Put meaning behind everything?”

                “I just want everything in my life to have some significance. I don’t want anything in it that doesn’t have to be.” I whispered.

                “What about me?” He finally asked.

                “If I didn’t find you meaningful on some sort of level, I wouldn’t have let you in my flat practically every day.”

                “Oh.” He offered a broad grin before getting up and gathering our plates.

                “I can do the dishes.” I objected.

                “I wouldn’t want the sink to attack the floor like upstairs.” Thank God, getting back to easier ground. I sighed in relief. Something flickered in Harry’s eyes, and I knew then, that he knew exactly what he was doing.

                “That washing machine is a death trap!” I protested booting up my laptop. “Okay. So Nancy, my nanny, said that my bills, I can pay online.”

                “You don’t mind me looking at your bills?” He asked.

                “Should I?” I asked, confused.

                “Your eyebrows scrunch up when you make that face…” He whispered, his thumb brushing where they met. “People usually do. I mean, it’s private information.”

                “I don’t care.” I shrugged. “Unless you try and steal my identity. Then I’d be upset.”

                “Would you? I’d be you then. Who would you be?” His eyes widened with mock wonder, pink lips rounded and making ominous noises. I just stared.  

                “Okay, okay. Deal.” I went through the instructions Nancy laid out for me and I managed to get there.

                “You know you can pay with your credit card right?”

                “You can?”

                He chuckled. “Yeah. It’s like shopping online. Except you don’t get anything in the mail.”

                “Then it’s nothing like shopping online.” I frowned. “Help me, please.”

                “Sure thing, babe.” It seemed like a natural reaction for him to lean over and kiss the top of my head. My skin grew hot.

                He helped me through each of my bills and set it up to pay through my credit card at the end of every month.

                “You have to pay to live in a house!” I exclaimed at the list Harry wrote down for me of bills that would be taken out of my account.

                “You pay rent, so yes, love. You do.”

                “That’s ridiculous. I’d have to live on the streets then.”

                “You have to pay for all your basic necessities.”

                “That’s horrid. They’re necessities.” I grumbled.

                “Which makes it all the easier to put money behind them.” He set the list on my fridge so I would remember. “What now?”

                “Movie?” I suggested. “I have ice cream.” I took his bright smile as a yes.

 

“Weird Science?” Harry asked as we settled on the couch. I had picked a movie as did Harry, neither of us saying what we picked.

                “It’s a classic.” I shrugged. “A good ole’ American 80’s classic.”

                “Who are you?”

                “Don’t be rude.” He just shook his head and we settled on the couch, sitting next to each other, just not quite touching. A little into the movie, Harry reclined, putting his arm on the back of the couch. My eyes grew heavy as the events of the day weighed on me. I slumped back against the cushions and felt an arm pull me closer to him.

                “Tired?” He whispered.

                “Hm.”

                “Do you want me to go?”

                “No,” I mumbled, curling up. He was warm and comfortable. “Stay.” His only response was pulling me closer to him, and I breathed in the smells of lavender and vanilla and lingering taint of cleaner.

 

 I was startled awake by a flashing light against my closed lids. Sitting up straight, I looked around wildly, only seeing a constant steady stream of white light from the TV. A sound of a car door slamming shut, then the beep of its lock came from outside. Looking around, I saw I was still in the living room. The screen playing a DVD menu of Love, Actually (Honestly it doesn’t surprise me one bit that he decided a Christmas movie while it was summer). I heard a soft sigh behind me, and over my shoulder I saw Harry laying down on the couch, curly locks strewn over his forehead, lips partly separated.

                “Harry,” I mumbled, shaking his shoulder. “Hazz, c’mon, wake up.”

                He groaned, his eyes scrunching up before he made an attempt to turn over. “I hate mornings.” He grumbled.

                “Hazz.” I rolled my eyes, smiling softly. “It’s two in the morning. I want to go to bed.”

                He sighed, turning to look at me. His green eyes were still filled with sleep. “Sorry. I should have left when you fell asleep-”

                “You’re not going home.” I shook my head, turning off the TV. “No way am I letting you drive while you were just asleep. C’mon. We’re going to bed.” Before I could think too much about it, I grabbed his hand and attempted to pull him up. Only, he wouldn’t budge.

                “Harry!” I whined. “Get up! I have work in the morning, too, you lazy bum!”

                “Fine. Fine.” He grumbled. “I’m going.” He staggered to his feet and followed me blindly up my steps, tripping a few times, before we made it to my room.

“You’re like fucking Bambi, Styles,” I grumbled as he stumbled over his feet.

“You sure? I can sleep in the guest room, or something.”

                “That’s all the way downstairs.” I shook my head. “Just get comfortable and get in the bed.” Slipping out of my oversized sweater, leaving me in my tank, I crawled in bed, taking up the side by the picture wall. I heard clothes rustle then the bed give as he laid down next to me.

                “Thanks.” He sighed, sinking into the mattress.

                “Hm.” I hummed, my mind already starting to drift. I felt an arm wrap around me, pulling me closer to him. “Harry?” I mumbled.

                “Hm?” He asked, his mouth muffled as of the fact his face was buried in my hair.

                “Are you wearing just your boxers?”

                “Uh huh. You said to get comfortable. I’m comfortable.”

                “Silly Brits.” I giggled.

                “Oh, I’m leaving on Sunday.”

                “Sunday?” Panic swelled up in me quickly and I turned around to face him. Why would he tell me this now?

                His eyes were half closed, and I don’t think he really understood that he was actually talking out loud. “Yeah. We’re doing signings and meet and greets and stuff in a few countries. But don’t worry,” He sighed softly, pulling me even closer, his nose burying in my hair. I nuzzled his chest. “I’m not leaving you. I’m not going to forget to call you every day, no matter the time. I promised I’d be there for you.”

                He seemed to have the right words because my panic eased and I relaxed in is safe hold before my mind gave way to the gentle grey haze that crept in from the corner of sleep.

                A pattern was soon forming, one that I couldn’t deny, nor did I want to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for staying with me on this guys!  
> I hope you enjoyed this lil chapter. The next one I don't think will have Harry in it as it's a development for Leighton. I hope you guys see the blurred reality Leila has with everything around her. Nothing but tea cups and she's a mess when it comes to responsibilities. Leighton doesn't necessarily have the more accurate perception of life and it reflects her decisions a lot. She also blurs British and American English a lot so there's that It'll settle itself by the end though.  
> I hope to have the next chapter up as soon as possible (I'm working on it as soon as I'm done here). Anyways,  
> do your thing with kudos, comments, bookmarks, whatever your cute little hearts desires.  
> Much love,  
> Always,  
> Rikkibabyy -xx


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